UNIVERSITY  Of  CALIFORNIA 
LIBRARY 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

NEW  YORK    •    BOSTON  •    CHICAGO 
ATLANTA  •    SAN   FRANCISCO 

MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  LIMITED 

LONDON   •   BOMBAY   •    CALCUTTA 
MELBOURNE 

THE  MACMILLAN  CO.  OF  CANADA,  LTD. 

TORONTO 


SELECTIONS  FROM 

EARLY  AMERICAN  WRITERS 

1607-1800 


EDITED   BY 

WILLIAM    B.   CAIRNS 

ASSISTANT  PROFESSOR   OF   AMERICAN   LITERATURE 
JN   THE   UNIVERSITY  OF  WISCONSIN 


THE   MACMILLAN   COMPANY 
1909 

All  rights  reserved 


COPYRIGHT,  1909, 
BY  THE   MACMILLAN   COMPANY. 


Set  up  and  electrotyped.     Published  May,  1909. 


Nottooob 

J.  8.  Cushing  Co.  —  Berwick  &  Smith  Co, 
Norwood,  Mass.,  U.S.A.. 


PREFACE 

THIS  volume  contains  selections  from  the  works  of  representa 
tive  American  writers  before  Washington  Irving.  It  is  intended  for 
use  in  the  class-room  by  students  who  are  making  a  fairly  detailed 
study  of  American  literature,  and  for  reference  and  assigned  read 
ing  by  those  whose  work  is  more  elementary  or  more  cursory. 
A  book  of  extracts  always  offers  a  poor  substitute  for  access  to 
complete  works ;  but  since  a  fairly  good  library  of  early  American 
writings  can  be  found  in  only  a  few  cities  of  the  country,  a  collection 
like  that  which  follows  seems  to  have  some  reason  for  existence. 

Teachers  of  American  literary  history  are  coming  pretty  gener 
ally  to  recognize  that  some  knowledge  of  the  temper  and  the  man 
ner  of  Colonial  and  Revolutionary  writers  is  necessary  to  the  full 
understanding  of  their  successors.  There  is  less  general  agree 
ment,  however,  as  to  the  authors  and  works  that  best  repay  study. 
In  deciding  what  to  include  in  this  volume  I  have  been  guided  to  a 
great  extent  by  my  own  experience  with  college  classes,  though  I 
have  given  much  weight  to  suggestions  kindly  offered  by  the 
publishers  and  by  other  teachers.  My  aim  has  been  to  make  the 
collection  representative  and  useful  for  its  purpose,  not  necessarily 
to  give  the  best  writings  of  the  time.  Thus,  Cotton  and  Shepard 
have  proved  in  my  experience  well  adapted  to  stand  as  representa 
tives  of  the  early  New  England  divines ;  but  I  am  not  rash  enough 
to  say  with  certainty  that  either  of  these  men  was  greater  than 
Hooker,  Eliot,  or  others  of  their  contemporaries.  In  some  cases 
it  will  be  obvious  that  I  have  chosen  passages  to  show  a  writer's 
weakness,  as  well  as  his  excellences.  I  cannot  hope  that  the 
collection  will  suit  any  one  person,  but  I  trust  that  it  may  contain 
enough  acceptable  material  to  make  it  useful. 

Although  it  is  unlikely  that  a  book  of  selections  will  be  made 
the  basis  of  any  scholarly  research,  I  have  felt  bound  to  make  the 


3  OH    2 


vi  PREFACE 

,<• 

text  as  accurate  as  possible.  It  has  not  always  been  practicable 
to  make  extracts  from  the  latest  edition  revised  by  the  author, 
or  from  original  manuscripts  of  works  not  printed  in  the  author's 
lifetime.  I  have  tried,  however,  in  every  case  to  follow  an  edition 
sufficiently  accurate  to  serve  most  of  the  purposes  of  a  student 
engaged  in  careful  investigation.  The  texts  chosen  I  have  endeav 
ored,  with  a  few  exceptions,  to  reproduce  as  closely  as  ordinary 
typographical  devices  would  allow.  The  use  of  the  long  "s,"  the 
interchange  of  "u"  and  "v,"  "i"  and  "j,"  and  such  manuscript 
abbreviations  as  "ye"  for  "the"  and  "comon"  for  "common," 
have  not  seemed  worth  perpetuating.  In  all  other  respects  the 
original  spelling,  capitalization,  punctuation,  etc.,  have  been 
followed.  Corrections  of  obvious  typographical  errors  have 
usually  been  enclosed  in  brackets,  as  have  emended  readings, 
whether  suggested  by  myself  or  by  an  earlier  editor.  Footnotes 
not  by  the  author  are  also  enclosed  in  brackets.  The  titles  of 
most  selections  have,  necessarily,  been  given  by  the  editor;  titles 
in  the  words  of  the  author  are  enclosed  in  quotation  marks  in 
the  Table  of  Contents.  As  the  book  may  be  used  in  mixed 
classes  in  secondary  schools  two  brief  and  unimportant  passages 
have  been  omitted  on  the  ground  of  impropriety.  These  omis 
sions  are  indicated  in  the  proper  places. 

For  kind  permission  to  follow  copyrighted  reprints  I  am 
indebted  to  G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons,  publishers  of  Conway's  edition 
of  the  writings  of  Thomas  Paine,  Ford's  edition  of  the  works  of 
Jefferson,  and  Lodge's  edition  of  the  works  of  Hamilton;  to 
Doubleday,  Page  &  Co.,  publishers  of  Bassett's  edition  of  the 
writings  of  William  Byrd ;  to  the  Library  of  Princeton  University, 
publishers  of  Pattee's  edition  of  Freneau ;  to  Mr.  Charles  Francis 
Adams,  editor,  and  the  Prince  Society,  publisher,  of  writings  of 
Thomas  Morton  and  John  Cotton;  and  to  Mr.  Sidney  S.  Rider, 
editor  and  publisher  of  Peter  Folger's  "A  Looking  Glass  for  the 
Times,"  in  the  Rhode  Island  Historical  Tracts.  I  also  wish  to 
express  my  thanks  to  the  Library  of  Harvard  University  for  the 
privilege  of  using,  in  Wisconsin,  three  or  four  rare  and  much 
needed  volumes. 

W.  B.  C. 

UNIVERSITY  OF  WISCONSIN, 
January,  1909. 


CONTENTS 

PACK 

JOHN  SMITH i 

The  beginnings  of  Jamestown 2 

An  adventure  with  the  Indians         .......  4 

The  religious  observances  of  the  Indians 10 

On  colonization 14 

A  diversion  for  the  ladies 16 

WILLIAM  STRACHEY      ....      ....',..  ».       .        .      19 

A  storm  and  a  shipwreck 19 

WILLIAM  BRADFORD v       .        ,  .      27 

First  acquaintance  with  the  Indians          .*        .  .         .         .  .       28 

The  voyage  of  the  Mayflower .         .         .         .  ...  .31    ^~ 

The  settlement  at  Merry  Mount       ...  .        .        .  .      35   - 

The  destruction  of  the  Pequods        .        .         .  t        .        ,.  .  .'      40 

Some  verses  on  New  England  .         .         .  »        .  x      .  .41 

JOHN  WINTHROP    .        .        .        .        ,        ..        .-.        .  .44 

A  half  year  in  Massachusetts  Bay     .         .         .         .         .         .  .44 

The  instituting  of  a  church       .         .         .        .         ....         .  .      49 

A  remarkable  providence          ........       50 

On  the  nature  of  liberty  .         .        .        »v       .        ...        i.  .       50 

Some  edifying  casualties  .         .         ».        ••••  «53 

Religious  experiences •         .  .       55 

Letters  to  Mrs.  Winthrop         .        .        .        ...        .  »57 

THOMAS  MORTON 60 

Dedication  of  the  New  English  Canaan 61 

"  The  generall  survey  of  the  country  " 62 

"Of  Thomas   Mortons  entertainement  at  Plimouth,  and  castinge 

away  upon  an  island" 63 

"  Of  a  man  indued  with  many  spetiall  guifts  sent  over  to  be  Master 

of  the  ceremonies  ".........       65 

"  Of  a  great  monster  supposed  to  be  at  Ma-re-Mount ;    and   the 

preparation  made  to  destroy  it" 67 

"  How  the  9.  worthies  put  mine  host  of  Ma-re-Mount  into  the  in- 
chaunted  castle  at  Plimmouth,  and  terrified  him  with  the  mon 
ster  Briareus " 71 

vii 


Vlll  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

THE  BAY  PSALM  BOOK 73 

Metrical  translation  of  the  psalms  defended      .....  73 

"Psalmel" 76 

"PsalmeXIX" 77 

"  Psalme  XXIII,  A  psalme  of  David  " 79 

"PsalmeXCV" 79 

"  Psalme  C  " 80 

"  Psalme  CXXI" 81 

JOHN  COTTON 82 

God's  promise  to  his  plantations 83 

An  account  of  Mrs.  Anne  Hutchinson 89 

An  admonition  to  Roger  Williams 91 

ROGER  WILLIAMS 94 

The  meaning  of  the  parable  of  the  tares 95 

"  The  portraiture  of  the  bloudie  tenent  " 106 

On  Christ  without  and  within 109 

NATHANIEL  WARD 112 

On  toleration  of  religious  opinions 113 

More  arguments  against  toleration 116 

On  women's  fashions 119 

"  A  word  of  Ireland  " 124 

THOMAS  SHEPARD 125 

An  interview  with  Bishop  Laud 125 

Questions  in  Indian  meeting 126 

The  sentence  at  the  last  judgment 128 

On  the  death  of  his  second  wife 132 

EDWARD  JOHNSON 134 

"  Of  the  first  preparation  of  the  marchant  adventurers,  in  the  Mat- 

tachusets" 134 

"  Of  the  voluntary  banishment,  chosen  by  this  people  of  Christ,  and 

their  last  farewell  taken  of  their  country  and  friends"  .  .  136 

"  Of  the  great  cheerefulnesse  of  their  souldiers  of  Christ,  in  and 

under  the  penuries  of  a  wildernesse  " 140 

The  extermination  of  the  Pequots 142 

ANNE  BRADSTREET 146 

"  Prologue " 147 

"  Of  the  four  ages  of  man  " 149 

"Spring" 150 

The  founding  of  Rome     .         .         .        f         „        .         .        .        .  153 


CONTENTS  ix 

PAGE 

"Contemplations" 154 

"  To  my  dear  and  loving  husband  " 162 

Longing  for  heaven 162 

"  Meditations  divine  and  morall " 164 

MICHAEL  WIGGLESWORTH 165 

The  call  to  judgment 166 

The  heathen  and  the  infants  plead 169 

Epilogue  to  "  God's  Controversy  with  New  England  "      .         .        .  177 

PETER  FOLGER 178 

A  word  concerning  magistrates  and  ministers 178 

THE  BURWELL  PAPERS 181 

The  siege  of  Jamestown  .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .181 

The  death  of  Bacon  and  the  accession  of  Ingram     .         .         .         .  185 

MARY  ROWLANDSON 190 

The  beginning  of  the  captivity         .         .        .         .         .         .         .190 

Some  incidents  of  the  eighth  remove                 .         .         ,                  .  195 

The  concluding  meditation      .         .         .         ....         .         .  197 

INCREASE  MATHER        .        .        .        .....        .        .199 

The  power  of  prayer         .         .         ...         .         , »      »         .         .  200 

The  beginning  of  King  Philip's  war  .  ,  .  .  .  203 

A  bewitched  house  .  .  .  .  ,  .  .  «  .  .  .  206 

The  probation  by  cold  water 209 

Increase  Mather  to  Governor  Dudley 213 

COTTON  MATHER .  .217 

Some  evidence  that  Susanna  Martin  was  a  witch  ....  218 

The  invisibility  of  witches 222 

A  temperance  exhortation  of  1698 223 

The  discovery  of  America 225 

"The  life  of  Mr.  Ralph  Partridge" 228 

Personal  observations  of  a  bewitched  child 230 

Cotton  Mather  to  Governor  Dudley 235 

SAMUEL  SE\VALL 238 

Discipline  at  Harvard  College  in  1674 239 

Judge  Sewall's  petition  of  penitence         ......  239 

The  events  of  a  month 240 

A  neighborly  admonition 244 

Meditation  and  prayer 245 

A  love-letter  and  some  visits  of  courtship 245 

Scriptural  prophecies  concerning  America 249 


CONTENTS 


EBENEZER  COOK 


252 


The  factor's  adventures 252 

A  bargain  with  a  Quaker 256 

WILLIAM  BYRD 259 

The  beginning  of  the  survey 259 

The  Great  Dismal  swamp         ••......  261 

Life  in  North  Carolina 266 

On  the  alligator 270 

Drawing  a  tooth 271 

JOHN  SECCOMB 273 

"  The  last  will  of  Mr.  Matthew  A y  of  New-England  "        .         .  274 

JONATHAN  EDWARDS 277 

*-  Early  religious  experiences 278 

On  future  punishment 281 

The  conversion  of  a  child 286 

"Concerning  the  notion  of  liberty,  and  of  moral  agency"        *?        .  291 

THOMAS  GODFREY 295 

"Pastoral" 295 

"Song" 298 

The  trials  of  virtue 299 

JOHN  WOOLMAN 305 

The  wearing  of  dyed  garments 305 

A  sea  voyage 307 

BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN 314 

Poor  Richard's  advice 315 

Ironical  advice  to  Great  Britain 319 

Early  training 322 

Schemes  for  self-improvement 323 

Franklin's  entrance  into  Philadelphia 327 

Plan  for  street  improvements   ........  330 

"The  whistle" 332 

PATRICK  HENRY 335 

Liberty  or  death       ..........  335 

Against  a  consolidated  government 338 

Danger  of  monarchy 340 

THOMAS  PAINE 343 

Reasons  for  independence 344 

The  times  that  try  men's  souls 347 


CONTENTS  xi 

PAGE 

THOMAS  JEFFERSON 353 

The  framing  of  the  Declaration 354 

"  The  natural  bridge  " 356 

First  inaugural  address 357 

ALEXANDER  HAMILTON 362 

The  issue  stated 363 

"The  Federalist,  Number  XXIV" 364 

The  importance  of  maintaining  public  credit 369 

FRANCIS  HOPKINSON      .        .       .       .       .        .       ...        .  372 

Contemporary  history  in  allegory     .         .        -».„•.         .         .         .  373 

"  The  battle  of  the  kegs "          .         .      .  .-       •         •                  •         •  379 

"  An  epitaph  for  an  infant  "...         .         .        .     -  .        .         .  382 

"Song  VI"      .         .        .    '    .         .        .        .        .        .         .         .382 

"Song  VII"    .         .        ....        .         ,        .         .         .383 

MERCY  OTIS  WARREN  .        .        .        .        .                        .        .        .  384 

A  loyalist  dialogue  .         .         ...         ...         .         .  385 

The  necessaries  of  life      ..        .        .        .'      .        .         .        .  388 

The  Boston  tea  party        .        .        .        .        .        .        .         .        .  389 

The  character  of  Washington 392 

The  character  of  General  Lee  .    .    „        .        .        ,        .        ...  393 

JOHN  TRUMBULL 395 

Invocation  to  sleep  .         .         . 396 

Tom  Brainless  at  college .         .         .         .        .        .        .        ..  397 

M'Fingal's  accomplishments    .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .  401 

M'Fingal  to  the  Whigs     .         ..        ..        .        ..         .  403 

The  combat  at  the  liberty  pole         .        .        .                 .        .       ..  405 

TIMOTHY  DWIGHT          .        .        .        .        .        .        .        ,      '.        .  409 

"Columbia" 410 

A  battle 411 

The  village  church  and  the  village  school 415 

The  mutability  of  earthly  things       .         .         .         .        .         .         .416 

Psalm  CXXXVII 418 

The  origin  of  a  name 419 

JOEL  BARLOW 421 

Independence ;    and  the    coming    of    war  (from    the    Vision    of 

Columbus) 422 

Independence  ;   and  the  coming  of  war  (from  the  Colurnbiad)          .  423 

Hymn  to  Peace 426 

A  favorite  dish 428 


xii  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

PHILIP  FRENEAU 431 

A  dream-picture       ..........  432 

The  captain  of  the  hospital  ship 434 

The  character  of  Cornwallis 435 

"  To  the  memory  of  the  brave  Americans  under  General  Greene,  in 

South  Carolina,  who  fell  in  the  action  of  September  8,  1781  "  .  437 
"  To  Sir  Toby,  a  sugar  planter  in  the  interior  parts  of  Jamaica,  near 

the  city  of  San  Jago  de  la  Vega  (Spanish  Town),  1784  "  .  .  438 

"  The  wild  honey  suckle  " 440 

"  The  death  song  of  a  Cherokee  Indian  " 440 

"The  Indian  burying  ground  " 441 

"To  a  dog" 442 

"  On  the  sleep  of  plants  " 443 

"  To  my  book  "..... 444 

"  To  a  caty-did  " 445 

"On  a  honey  bee  drinking  from  a  glass  of  wine  and  drowned 

therein" 447 

MINOR  POEMS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION 449 

"  The  liberty  song " 450 

"  Virginia  banishing  tea  " 451 

"  The  Pennsylvania  song  " 452 

"  The  American  hero  " 453 

."  The  Yankee's  return  from  camp  " 455 

Nathan  Hale 457 

"The  British  light-infantry" ,          .  459 

D'Estaing's  disaster 460 

"  Volunteer  boys  " 461 

"  The  dance  " 463 

HUGH  HENRY  BRACKENRIDGE 466 

An  answer  to  a  challenge 466 

Treating  with  the  Indians 467 

CHARLES  BROCKDEN  BROWN 475 

A  mysterious  warning 476 

An  incident  of  the  yellow  fever  panic  in  Philadelphia       .         .         .  482 

An  adventure  in  the  wilderness                                                              ,  488 


SELECTIONS    FROM 

EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

1607-1800 


:   ':  ' 
•'- 


WA 


JOHN  SMITH 

[Captain  John  Smith  was  born  in  Willoughby,  Lincolnshire,  in  1580 
(1579,  O.S.).  He  was  apprenticed  to  a  merchant,  but,  finding  a  life  of  trade 
too  tame,  he  ran  away  at  the  age  of  fifteen  and  became  a  soldier  of  fortune. 
During  the  next  ten  or  eleven  years  he  visited,  if  we  may  trust  his  own  ac 
count,  most  parts  of  Europe  where  adventures  might  be  found,  and  fought 

"As  wel  in  Christendom  as  in  hethenesse." 

In  1605  he  was  again  in  England,  and  a  year  and  a  half  later  he  went  out 
with  the  colonists  who  finally  landed  at  Jamestown.  Here  he  appears,  both 
in  his  own  accounts  and  in  those  of  his  fellow-colonists,  as  a  rough-and- 
ready,  energetic  man,  always  in  trouble,  but  probably  the  most  practical 
and  capable  manager  in  the  new  settlement.  He  remained  in  Virginia  until 
1609,  when  he  returned  to  England.  In  1614  he  made  a  voyage  of  ex 
ploration  to  the  coast  of  New  England ;  and  the  next  year  he  started  for  that 
region  with  a  colonizing  party,  but  was  captured  and  imprisoned  by  the 
French.  After  his  release  he  lived  quietly  in  England  until  his  death  in 
1631. 

While  he  was  in  Virginia  Captain  Smith  wrote  only  two  works  of  im 
portance.  The  first  was  very  likely  begun  soon  after  the  colonists  landed  in 
1607,  and  was  sent  to  England  early  in  1608.  It  was  published  the  same 
year  under  the  title  of  "A  True  Relation  of  such  occurrences  and  accidents 
of  noate  as  hath  hapned  in  Virginia  since  the  first  planting  of  that  Collony, 
which  is  now  resident  in  the  South  part  thereof,  till  the  last  returne  from 
thence."  The  second  work,  "A  Map  of  Virginia,  with  a  Description  of  the 
Countrey  the  Commodities,  People,  Government  and  Religion,"  was  prob 
ably  sent  to  England  a  few  months  later  than  the  "True  Relation"  but  was 
not  published  until  1612.  At  the  same  time  with  the  "Map  of  Virginia," 
Captain  Smith  sent  an  interesting  and  outspoken  letter  in  reply  to  the  demands 
of  the  proprietors  for  money  from  the  colony.  After  his  return  to  England 
he  wrote  a  number  of  works,  among  the  more  important  of  which  were  "A 
Description  of  New  England"  (1616),  "New  Englands  Trials"  (1620-22), 
"The  General  Historic  of  Virginia"  (1624),  "The  True  Travels,  Adven 
tures,  and  Observations  of  Captaine  John  Smith"  (1630).  In  strictness 
only  the  "True  Relation  "  and  the  "Map  of  Virginia"  have  a  place  in  a  col 
lection  of  American  writings,  but  brief  selections  from  "A  Description  of 
New  England"  and  the  "True  Travels"  are  given  in  the  following  pages 
for  the  sake  of  comparison. 


WRITERS 


pfy  the.  eritkisn^  of  "Smith's  writings  has  taken  the  form  of  discus 
sions  regarding  his  veracity.  Some  of  the  early  exploits  narrated  in  the 
"True  Travels"  are  so  marvellous  as  to  seem  improbable.  Many  of  the 
statements  in  the  writings  on  Virginia  are  corroborated  by  the  independent 
testimony  of  others;  but  circumstantial  evidence  seems  to  discredit  the 
familiar  story  of  his  rescue  by  Pocahontas.  In  his  earlier  accounts  of  his 
visit  to  Powhatan,  Smith  speaks  of  that  chieftain  as  uniformly  friendly,  and 
refers,  incidentally,  to  Pocahontas  as  a  mere  child.  It  was  not  till  the  Indian 
"  princess,"  as  the  wife  of  John  Rolfe,  was  attracting  attention  in  London, 
while  Smith  was  living  in  comparative  obscurity,  that  he  linked  his  name 
with  hers  in  the  anecdote  that  has  become  famous.  In  many  cases  no 
positive  proof  or  disproof  of  Smith's  statements  is  possible.  But,  though 
Mr.  Edward  Arber,  the  conscientious  editor  of  all  his  writings,  believes  in 
his  absolute  truthfulness,  it  seems  probable  that  in  his  later  years  he  availed 
himself  of  the  soldier's  and  traveller's  privilege  and  magnified  his  own 
exploits. 

The  first  American  writer  was  typical  of  those  Elizabethan  Englishmen 
who  were  primarily  men  of  action,  and  incidentally  men  of  letters.  The 
"True  Relation"  and  the  "Map  of  Virginia"  were  in  no  sense  works  of 
literature,  but  simply  businesslike  reports  of  the  doings  of  the  colonists, 
and  descriptions  of  the  country  that  they  had  found.  The  former  was 
probably  written  for  the  information  of  the  proprietors,  with  no  thought  of 
its  publication.  Some  of  the  later  works  were  undertaken  with  a  less  im 
mediate  practical  aim.  There  is  no  evidence  that  the  author  had  ever 
tried  to  write  before  he  came  to  Jamestown,  and  the  style  of  the  "True 
Relation"  indicates  that  it  is  the  work  of  a  novice  in  the  art.  Even  the 
"Map  of  Virginia,"  written  only  a  few  months  later,  shows  a  decided  ad 
vance  in  style;  and  some  of  the  later  works,  produced  with  greater  leisure 
and  after  more  practice,  have  in  passages  here  and  there  the  sonorous  effec 
tiveness  of  the  better  Elizabethan  prose. 

The  selections  here  given  are  from  the  complete  edition  of  Smith's  writ 
ings  edited  by  Edward  Arber.  Except  for  changes  in  paragraphing  and 
occasionally  in  punctuation,  the  text  is  that  of  the  first  editions  of  the  re 
spective  works.] 

THE   BEGINNINGS  OF   JAMESTOWN 

[From  the  "True  Relation,"  etc.] 

Kinde  Sir,  commendations  remembred,  &c.  You  shall  under 
stand  that  after  many  crosses  in  the  downes  by  tempests,  wee 
arrived  safely  uppon  the  Southwest  part  of  the  great  Canaries  : 
within  foure  or  five  daies  after  we  set  saile  for  Dominica,  the  26. 
of  Aprill  :  the  first  land  we  made,  wee  fell  with  Cape  Henry,  the 
verie  mouth  of  the  Bay  of  Chissiapiacke,  which  at  that  present 


JOHN  SMITH.'-: 


we  little  expected,  having  by  a  cruell  stqrrne  beiie.  pat  tQVthe 
Northward : 

Anchoring  in  this  Bay  twentie  or  thirtie  went  a  shore  with  the 
Captain,  and  in  comming  aboard,  they  were  assalted  with  certaine 
Indians,  which  charged  them  within  Pistoll  shot :  in  which  conflict, 
Captaine  Archer  and  Mathew  Morton  were  shot:  wherupon  Cap- 
taine  Newport  seconding  them,  made  a  shot  at  them,  which  the 
Indians  little  respected,  but  having  spent  their  arrowes  retyred 
without  harme.  And  in  that  place  was  the  Box  opened,  w'herin 
the  Counsell  for  Virginia  was  nominated :  and  arriving  at  the  place 
where  wee  are  now  seated,  the  Counsell  was  sworn,  and  the  Presi 
dent  elected,  which  for  that  yeare  was  Maister  Edm.  Maria  Wing- 
field,  where  was  made  choice  for  our  scituation,  a  verie  fit  place 
for  the  erecting  of  a  great  cittie,  about  which  some  contention 
passed  betwixt  Captaine  Wing  field  and  Captaine  Gosnold:  not 
withstanding,  all  our  provision  was  brought  a  shore,  and  with  as 
much  speede  as  might  bee  wee  went  about  our  fortification. 

The  two  and  twenty  day  of  Aprill,  Captain  Newport  and  my 
selfe  with  divers  others,  to  the  number  of  twenty  two  persons, 
set  forward  to  discover  the  River,  some  fiftie  or  sixtie  miles,  find 
ing  it  in  some  places  broader,  and  in  some  narrower,  the  Countrie 
(for  the  moste  part)  on  each  side  plaine  high  ground,  with  many 
fresh  Springes,  the  people  in  all  places  kindely  intreating  us, 
daunsing  and  feasting  us  with  strawberries,  Mulberries,  Bread, 
Fish,  and  other  their  Countrie  provisions  wherof  we  had  plenty: 
for  which  Captaine  Newport  kindely  requited  their  least  favours 
with  Bels,  Pinnes,  Needles,  beades,  or  Glasses,  which  so  contented 
them  that  his  liberallitie  made  them  follow  us  from  place  to  place, 
and  ever  kindely  to  respect  us.  In  the  midway  staying  to  refresh 
our  selves  in  a  little  lie,  foure  or  five  savages  came  unto  us  which 
described  unto  us  the  course  of  the  River,  and  after  in  our  journey, 
they  often  met  us,  trading  with  us  for  such  provision  as  wee  had, 
and  ariving  at  Arsatecke,  hee  whom  we  supposed  to  bee  the  chief e 
King  of  all  the  rest,  moste  kindely  entertained  us,  giving  us  in 
a  guide  to  go  with  us  up  the  River  to  Powhatan,  of  which  place 
their  great  Emperor  taketh  his  name,  where  he  that  they  honored 
for  King  used  us  kindely.  But  to  finish  this  discoverie,  we  passed 
on  further,  where  within  a  mile  we  were  intercepted  with  great 


4  EARLY  AMERICAN   WRITERS 

craggy  stones  in  the  midst  of  the  river,  where  the  water  falleth 
so  rudely,  and  with  such  a  violence,  as  not  any  boat  can  possibly 
passe,  and  so  broad  disperseth  the  streame,  as  there  is  not  past 
five  or  sixe  Foote  at  a  low  water,  and  to  the  shore  scarce  passage 
with  a  barge,  the  water  floweth  foure  foote,  and  the  freshes  by 
reason  of  the  Rockes  have  left  markes  of  the  inundations  8.  or 
9.  foote:  The  south  side  is  plaine  low  ground,  and  the  north  side 
high  mountaines,  the  rockes  being  of  a  gravelly  nature,  interlaced 
with  many  vains  of  glistring  spangles. 

That  night  we  returned  to  Powhatan :  the  next  day  (being  Whit 
sunday  after  dinner)  we  returned  to  the  fals,  leaving  a  mariner 
in  pawn  with  the  Indians  for  a  guide  of  theirs,  hee  that  they  hon 
oured  for  King  followed  us  by  the  river.  That  afternoone  we 
trifled  in  looking  upon  the  Rockes  and  river  (further  he  would 
not  goe)  so  there  we  erected  a  crosse,  and  that  night  taking  our 
man  at  Powhatans,  Captaine  Newport  congratulated  his  kindenes 
with  a  Gown  and  a  Hatchet:  returning  to  Arsetecke,  and  stayed 
there  the  next  day  to  observe  the  height  therof,  and  so  with  many 
signes  of  love  we  departed. 

AN  ADVENTURE  WITH  THE  INDIANS 

[From  the  "True  Relation"] 

Having  2  Indians  for  my  guide  and  2  of  our  own  company,  I 
set  forward,  leaving  7  in  the  barge : 

Having  discovered  20  miles  further  in  this  desart,  the  river  stil 
kept  his  depth  and  bredth,  but  much  more  combred  with  trees: 

Here  we  went  ashore  (being  some  12  miles  higher  then  the  barge 
had  bene)  to  refresh  our  selves,  during  the  boyling  of  our  vituals : 
One  of  the  Indians  I  tooke  with  me,  to  see  the  nature  of  the  soile, 
and  to  crosse  the  boughts  of  the  river :  the  other  Indian  I  left  with 
Maister  Robbinson  and  Thomas  Entry,  with  their  matches  lighted, 
and  order  to  discharge  a  peece,  for  my  retreat,  at  the  first  sight  of 
any  Indian. 

But  within  a  quarter  of  a  houre  I  heard  a  loud  cry,  and  a 
hollowing  of  Indians,  but  no  warning  peece.  Supposing  them 
surprised,  and  that  the  Indians  had  betraid  us,  presently  I  seazed 


JOHN  SMITH  5 

him  and  bound  his  arme  fast  to  my  hand  in  a  garter,  with  my 
pistoll  ready  bent  to  be  revenged  on  him:  he  advised  me  to  fly, 
and  seemed  ignorant  of  what  was  done. 

But  as  we  went  discoursing,  I  was  struck  with  an  arrow  on 
the  right  thigh,  but  without  harme:  upon  this  occasion  I  espied 
2.  Indians  drawing  their  bowes,  which  I  prevented  in  discharg 
ing  a  french  pistoll  : 

By  that  I  had  charged  againe,  3  or  4  more  did  the  like:  for 
the  first  fell  downe  and  fled  :  At  my  discharge,  they  did  the  like. 
My  hinde  I  made  my  barricade,  who  offered  not  to  strive.  20.  or 
30.  arrowes  were  shot  at  me  but  short.  3  or  4  times  I  had  dis 
charged  my  pistoll  ere  the  king  of  Pamaunck  called  Opeckanke- 
nough  with  200  men,  invironed  me,  cache  drawing  their  bowe: 
which  done  they  laid  them  upon  the  ground,  yet  without  shot  : 

My  hinde  treated  betwixt  them  and  me  of  conditions  of  peace  ; 
he  discovred  me  to  be  the  Captaine  :  my  request  was  to  retire  to 
the  boate:  they  demaunded  my  armes,  the  rest  they  saide  were 
slaine,  onely  me  they  would  reserve  : 

The  Indian  importuned  me  not  to  shoot.  In  retiring  being  in 
the  midst  of  a  low  quagmire,  and  minding  them  more  than  my 
steps,  I  stept  fast  into  the  quagmire,  and  also  the  Indian  in  draw 
ing  me  forth  : 

Thus  surprised,  I  resolved  to  trie  their  mercies:  my  armes  I 
caste  from  me,  till  which  none  durst  approch  me. 

Being  ceazed  on  me,  they  drew  me  out  and  led  me  to  the  King. 
I  presented  him  with  a  compasse  diall,  describing  by  my  best 
meanes  the  use  therof  :  whereat  he  so  amazedly  admired,  as  he 
suffered  me  to  proceed  in  a  discourse  of  the  roundnes  of  the  earth, 
the  course  of  the  sunne,  moone,  starres  and  plannets. 

With  kinde  speeches  and  bread  he  requited  me,  conducting  me 
where  the  Canow  lay  and  John  Robbinson  slaine,  with  20  or  30. 
arrowes  in  him.  Emry  I  saw  not. 

I  perceived  by  the  aboundance  of  fires  all  over  the  woods,1  At 
each  place  I  expected  when  they  would  execute  me,  yet  they 
used  me  with  what  kindnes  they  could  : 

Approaching  their  Towne,  which  was  within  6  miles  where  I 


text  is  unintelligible  here.     Arber  supplies  some  such  expression  as 
"  that  they  were  a  party  hunting  deer."] 


6  EARLY  AMERICAN    WRITERS 

was  taken,  onely  made  as  arbors  and  covered  with  mats,  which 
they  remove  as  occasion  requires:  all  the  women  and  children, 
being  advertised  of  this  accident,  came  foorth  to  meet  them,  the 
King  well  guarded  with  20  bowmen  5  flanck  and  rear,  and  each 
flanck  before  him  a  sword  and  a  peece,  and  after  him  the  like, 
then  a  bowman,  then  I  on  each  hand  a  boweman,  the  rest  in 
file  in  the  reare,  which  reare  led  foorth  a  mongst  the  trees  in  a 
bishion,  cache  his  bowe  and  a  handfull  of  arrowes,  a  quiver  at 
his  back  grimly  painted :  on  cache  flanck  a  sargeant,  the  one  run 
ning  alwaies  towards  the  front,  the  other  towards  the  reare,  each 
a  true  pace  and  in  exceeding  good  order. 

This  being  a  good  time  continued,  they  caste  themselves  in  a 
ring  with  a  daunce,  and  so  cache  man  departed  to  his  lodging. 

The  Captain  conducting  me  to  his  lodging,  a  quarter  of  Veni 
son  and  some  ten  pound  of  bread  I  had  for  supper:  what  I  left 
was  reserved  for  me,  and  sent  with  me  to  my  lodging : 

Each  morning  3.  women  presented  me  three  great  platters  of 
fine  bread,  more  venison  than  ten  men  could  devour  I  had:  my 
gowne,  points  and  garters,  my  compas  and  my  tablet  they  gave 
me  again.  Though  8  ordinarily  guarded  me,  I  wanted  not  what 
they  could  devise  to  content  me :  and  still  our  longer  acquaintance 
increased  our  better  affection : 

Much  they  threatned  to  assault  our  forte,  as  they  were  solicited 
by  the  King  of  Paspahegh:  who  shewed  at  our  fort  great  signes 
of  sorrow  for  this  mischance.  The  King  tooke  great  delight  in 
understanding  the  manner  of  our  ships,  and  sayling  the  seas,  the 
earth  and  skies,  and  of  our  God :  what  he  knew  of  the  dominions 
he  spared  not  to  acquaint  me  with,  as  of  certaine  men  cloathed 
at  a  place  called  Ocanahonan,  cloathed  like  me :  the  course  of  our 
river,  and  that  within  4  or  5  daies  journey  of  the  falles,  was  a 
great  turning  of  salt  water: 

I  desired  he  would  send  a  messenger  to  Paspahegh,  with  a  letter 
I  would  write,  by  which  they  shold  understand  how  kindly  they 
used  me,  and  that  I  was  well,  least  they  should  revenge  my  death. 
This  he  granted  and  sent  three  men,  in  such  weather  as  in  reason 
were  unpossible  by  any  naked  to  be  indured.  Their  cruell 
mindes  towards  the  fort  I  had  deverted,  in  describing  the  ordi 
nance  and  the  mines  in  the  fields,  as  also  the  revenge  Captain 


JOHN   SMITH  7 

Newport  would  take  of  them  at  his  returne.  Their  intent,  I  in- 
certed  the  fort,  the  people  of  Ocanahonum  and  the  back  sea :  this 
report  they  after  found  divers  Indians  that  confirmed : 

The  next  day  after  my  letter,  came  a  salvage  to  my  lodging, 
with  his  sword,  to  have  slaine  me :  but  being  by  my  guard  inter 
cepted,  with  a  bowe  and  arrow  he  offred  to  have  effected  his  pur 
pose:  the  cause  I  knew  not,  till  the  King  understanding  thereof 
came  and  told  me  of  a  man  a  dying,  wounded  with  my  pistoll: 
he  tould  me  also  of  another  I  had  slayne,  yet  the  most  concealed 
they  had  any  hurte:  This  was  the  father  of  him  I  had  slayne, 
whose  fury  to  prevent,  the  King  presently  conducted  me  to  an 
other  Kingdome,  upon  the  top  of  the  next  northerly  river,  called 
Youghtanan. 

Having  feasted  me  he  further  led  me  to  another  branch  of  the 
river,  called  Malta pament;  to  two  other  hunting  townes  they  led 
me:  and  to  each  of  these  Countries,  a  house  of  the  great  Em- 
perour  of  Pewhakan,  whom  as  yet  I  supposed  to  bee  at  the  Fals; 
to  him  I  tolde  him  I  must  goe,  and  so  returne  to  Paspahegh. 

After  this  foure  or  five  dayes  march,  we  returned  to  Rasawrack, 
the  first  towne  they  brought  me  too :  where  binding  the  Mats  in 
bundels,  they  marched  two  dayes  journey,  and  crossed  the  River 
of  Youghtanan,  where  it  was  as  broad  as  Thames:  so  conducting 
me  to  a  place  called  Menapacute  in  Pamaunke,  where  the  King 
inhabited. 

The  next  day  another  King  of  that  nation  called  Kekataugh, 
having  received  some  kindnes  of  me  at  the  Fort,  kindly  invited 
me  to  feast  at  his  house,  the  people  from  all  places  flocked  to  see 
me,  each  shewing  to  content  me. 

By  this,  the  great  King  hath  foure  or  five  houses,  each  contain 
ing  fourescore  or  an  hundred  foote  in  length,  pleasantly  seated 
upon  an  high  sandy  hill,  from  whence  you  may  see  westerly  a 
goodly  low  Country,  the  river  before  the  which  his  crooked  course 
causeth  many  great  Marshes  of  exceeding  good  ground.  An 
hundred  houses,  and  many  large  plaines  are  here  togither  in 
habited.  More  abundance  of  fish  and  fowle,  and  a  pleasanter 
seat  cannot  be  imagined.  The  King  with  fortie  Bowmen  to 
guard  me,  intreated  me  to  discharge  my  Pistoll,  which  they  there 
presented  me,  with  a  mark  at  six  score  to  strike  therwith :  but  to 


8  EARLY  AMERICAN1   WRITERS 

spoil  the  practise,  I  broke  the  cocke,  whereat  they  were  much 
discontented,  though  a  chaunce  supposed. 

From  hence,  this  kind  King  conducted  mee  to  a  place  called 
Topahanocke,  a  kingdome  upon  another  River  northward:  The 
cause  of  this  was,  that  the  yeare  before,  a  shippe  had  beene  in 
the  River  of  Pamaunke,  who  having  beene  kindly  entertained  by 
Powhatan  their  Emperour,  they  returned  thence  and  discovered 
the  River  of  Topahanocke:  where  being  received  with  like  kind- 
nesse,  yet  he  slue  the  King,  and  tooke  of  his  people,  and  they 
supposed  I  were  hee.  But  the  people  reported  him  a  great  man 
that  was  Captaine,  and  using  mee  kindly,  the  next  day  we  de 
parted. 

This  River  of  Topahanock  seemeth  in  breadth  not  much  lesse 
then  that  we  dwell  upon.  At  the  mouth  of  the  River  is  a  Coun- 
trey  called  Cuttata  women:  upwards  is  Marraugh  tacum,  Tapo- 
hanock,  Appamatuck,  and  Nantaugs  tacum:  at  Topmanahocks, 
the  head  issuing  from  many  Mountaines. 

The  next  night  I  lodged  at  a  hunting  town  of  Powhatams,  and 
the  next  day  arrived  at  Waranacomoco  upon  the  river  of  Pa- 
mauncke,  where  the  great  king  is  resident.  By  the  way  we  passed 
by  the  top  of  another  little  river,  which  is  betwixt  the  two, 
called  Payankatank.  The  most  of  this  Country  though  Desert, 
yet  exceeding  fertil;  good  timber,  most  hils  and  dales,  in  each 
valley  a  cristall  spring. 

Arriving  at  Weramocomoco,  their  Emperour  proudly  lying  uppon 
a  Bedstead  a  foote  high,  upon  tenne  or  twelve  Mattes,  richly 
hung  with  manie  Chaynes  of  great  Pearles  about  his  necke,  and 
covered  with  a  great  Covering  of  Rahaughcums.  At  heade  sat  a 
woman,  at  his  feete  another;  on  each  side  sitting  uppon  a  Matte 
uppon  the  ground,  were  raunged  his  chiefe  men  on  each  side  the 
fire,  tenne  in  a  ranke,  and  behinde  them  as  many  yong  women, 
each  a  great  Chaine  of  white  Beades  over  their  shoulders,  their 
heades  painted  in  redde:  and  with  such  a  grave  and  Majesticall 
countenance,  as  drave  me  into  admiration  to  see  such  state  in  a 
naked  Salvage. 

Hee  kindly  welcomed  me  with  good  wordes,  and  great 
Platters  of  sundrie  Victuals,  assuring  mee  his  friendship,  and 
my  libertie  within  foure*  days.  Hee  much  delighted  in  Opechan 


JOHN  SMITH  9 

Comonghs  relation  of  what  I  had  described  to  him,  and  oft  ex 
amined  me  upon  the  same. 

Hee  asked  mee  the  cause  of  our  comming. 

I  tolde  him  being  in  fight  with  the  Spaniards  our  enimie,  beeing 
overpowred,  neare  put  to  retreat,  and  by  extreame  weather  put 
to  this  shore:  where  landing  at  Chesipiack,  the  people  shot  us, 
but  at  Keqiwughtan  they  kindly  used  us :  we  by  signes  demaunded 
fresh  water,  they  described  us  up  the  River  was  all  fresh  water: 
at  Paspahegh  also  they  kindly  used  us:  our  Pinnasse  being 
leake,  we  were  inforced  to  stay  to  mend  her,  till  Captaine  New 
port  my  father  came  to  conduct  us  away. 

He  demaunded  why  we  went  further  with  our  Boate.  I  tolde 
him,  in  that  I  would  have  occasion  to  talk  of  the  backe  Sea,  that 
on  the  other  side  the  maine,  where  Was  salt  water.  My  father 
had  a  childe  slaine,  whiche  wee  supposed  Monocan  his  enemie: 
whose  death  we  intended  to  revenge. 

After  good  deliberation,  hee  began  to  describe  mee  the  Coun- 
treys  beyonde  the  Falles,  with  many  of  the  rest ;  confirming  what 
not  onely  Opecliancanoyes,  and  an  Indian  which  had  beene 
prisoner  to  Pewhatan  had  before  tolde  mee:  but  some  called  it 
five  dayes,  some  sixe,  some  eight,  where  the  sayde  water  dashed 
amongest  many  stones  and  rockes,  each  storm ;  which  caused  oft 
tymes  the  heade  of  the  River  to  bee  brackish : 

AncJtanachuck  he  described  to  bee  the  people  that  had  slaine 
my  brother:  whose  death  hee  would  revenge.  Hee  described 
also  upon  the  same  Sea,  a  mighty  Nation  called  Pocoughtronack, 
a  fierce  Nation  that  did  eate  men,  and  warred  with  the  people  of 
Moyaoncer  and  Pataromerke,  Nations  upon  the  toppe  of  the  heade 
of  the  Bay,  under  his  territories:  where  the  yeare  before  they 
had  slain  an  hundred.  He  signified  their  crownes  were  shaven, 
long  haire  in  the  necke,  tied  on  a  knot,  Swords  like  Pollaxes. 

Beyond  them  he  described  people  with  short  Coates,  and 
Sleeves  to  the  Elbowes,  that  passed  that  way  in  Shippes  like 
ours.  Many  Kingdomes  hee  described  mee,  to  the  heade  of  the 
Bay,  which  seemed  to  bee  a  mightie  River  issuing  from  mightie 
Mountaines  betwixt  the  two  Seas :  The  people  cloathed  at  Oca- 
mahoivan,  he  also  confirmed;  and  the  Southerly  Countries  also, 
as  the  rest  that  reported  us  to  be  within  a  day  and  a  halfe  of 


10  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

Mango  ge,  two  dayes  of  Chawwonock,  6.  from  Roonock,  to  the 
south  part  of  the  backe  sea:  He  described  a  countrie  called 
Anone,  where  they  have  abundance  of  Brasse,  and  houses  walled 
as  ours. 

I  requited  his  discourse  (seeing  what  pride  hee  had  in  his  great 
and  spacious  Dominions,  seeing  that  all  hee  knewe  were  under 
his  Territories)  in  describing  to  him,  the  territories  of  Europe, 
which  was  subject  to  our  great  King  whose  subject  I  was,  the 
innumerable  multitude  of  his  ships,  I  gave  him  to  understand 
the  noyse  of  Trumpets,  and  terrible  manner  of  fighting  were 
under  captain  Newport  my  father:  whom  I  intituled  the  Me- 
worames,  which  they  call  the  King  of  all  the  waters.  At  his 
greatnesse,  he  admired :  and  not  a  little  feared.  He  desired  mee 
to  forsake  Paspahegh,  and  to  live  with  him  upon  his  River,  a 
Countrie  called  Capa  Howasicke.  Hee  promised  to  give  me 
Corne,  Venison,  or  what  I  wanted  to  feede  us:  Hatchets  and 
Copper  wee  should  make  him,  and  none  should  disturbe  us. 

This  request  I  promised  to  performe:  and  thus,  having  with 
all  the  kindnes  hee  could  devise,  sought  to  content  me,  hee  sent 
me  home,  with  4.  men:  one  that  usually  carried  my  Gowne  and 
Knapsacke  after  me,  two  other  loded  with  bread,  and  one  to 
accompanie  me. 

THE  RELIGIOUS  OBSERVANCES  OF  THE  INDIANS 

[From  "A  Map  of  Virginia"] 

There  is  yet  in  Virginia  no  place  discovered  to  bee  so  Savage 
in  which  the  Savages  have  not  a  religion,  Deare,  and  Bow  and 
Arrowes.  All  thinges  that  were  able  to  do  them  hurt  beyond 
their  prevention,  they  adore  with  their  kinde  of  divine  worship; 
as  the  fire,  water,  lightning,  thunder,  our  ordinance,  peeces, 
horses,  &c. 

But  their  chiefe  God  they  worship  is  the  Divell.  Him  they  call 
Oke  and  serve  him  more  of  feare  than  love.  They  say  they  have 
conference  with  him,  and  fashion  themselves  as  neare  to  his 
shape  as  they  can  imagine.  In  their  Temples  they  have  his 
image  evill  favouredly  carved,  and  then  painted  and  adorned 


JOHN   SMITH  II 

with  chaines,  copper,  and  beades;  and  covered  with  a  skin,  in 
such  manner  as  the  deformity  may  well  suit  with  such  a  God. 

By  him  is  commonly  the  sepulcher  of  their  kings.  Their 
bodies  are  first  bowelled,  then  dryed  upon  hurdles  till  they  bee 
verie  dry,  and  so  about  the  most  of  their  jointes  and  necke  they 
hang  bracelets  or  chaines  of  copper,  pearle,  and  such  like,  as 
they  use  to  weare:  their  inwards  they  stuffe  with  copper  beads 
and  cover  with  a  skin,  hatchets,  and  such  trash.  Then  lappe 
they  them  very  carefully  in  white  skins,  and  so  rowle  them  in 
mats  for  their  winding  sheetes.  And  in  the  Tombe,  which  is  an 
arch  made  of  mats,  they  lay  them  orderly.  What  remaineth  of 
this  kinde  of  wealth  their  kings  have,  they  set  at  their  feet  in 
baskets.  These  Temples  and  bodies  are  kept  by  their  Priests. 

For  their  ordinary  burials,  they  digge  a  deep  hole  in  the  earth 
with  sharpe  stakes;  and  the  corpes  being  lapped  in  skins  and 
mats  with  their  jewels,  they  lay  them  upon  sticks  in  the  ground, 
and  so  cover  them  with  earth.  The  buriall  ended,  the  women 
being  painted  all  their  faces  with  black  cole  and  oile,  doe  sit  24 
howers  in  the  houses  mourning  and  lamenting  by  turnes,  with 
such  yelling  and  howling  as  may  expresse  their  great  passions. 

In  every  Territory  of  a  werowance  is  a  Temple  and  a  Priest  2 
or  3  or  more.  Their  principall  Temple  or  place  of  superstition 
is  at  Uttamussack  at  Pamaunke,  neare  unto  which  is  a  house 
Temple  or  place  of  Powhatans. 

Upon  the  top  of  certaine  redde  sandy  hils  in  the  woods,  there 
are  3  great  houses  filled  with  images  of  their  kings  and  Divels 
and  Tombes  of  their  Predecessors.  Those  houses  are  neare  60 
foot  in  length,  built  arbor  wise,  after  their  building.  This  place 
they  count  so  holy  as  that  none  but  the  Priestes  and  kings  dare 
come  into  them:  nor  the  Savages  dare  not  go  up  the  river  in 
boats  by  it,  but  that  they  solemnly  cast  some  peece  of  copper, 
white  beads,  or  Pocones  into  the  river,  for  feare  their  Oke  should 
be  offended  and  revenged  of  them. 

In  this  place  commonly  is  resident  7  Priests.  The  chiefe 
differed  from  the  rest  in  his  ornaments :  but  inferior  Priests  could 
hardly  be  knowne  from  the  common  people,  but  that  they  had 
not  so  many  holes  in  their  eares  to  hang  their  jewels  at. 

The  ornaments  of  the  chiefe  Priest  was  certain  attires  for  his 


12  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

head  made  thus.  They  tooke  a  dosen  or  16  or  more  snake  skins, 
and  stuffed  them  with  mosse;  and  of  weesels  and  other  vermine 
skins,  a  good  many.  All  these  they  tie  by  their  tailes,  so  as  all 
their  tailes  meete  in  the  toppe  of  their  head,  like  a  great  Tassell. 
Round  about  this  Tassell  is  as  it  were  a  crown  of  feathers;  the 
skins  hang  round  about  his  head  necke  and  shoulders,  and  in  a 
manner  cover  his  face. 

The  faces  of  all  their  Priests  are  painted  as  ugly  as  they  can 
devise.  In  their  hands,  they  had  every  one  his  Rattell,  some 
base,  some  smaller.  Their  devotion  was  most  in  songs  which 
the  chief e  Priest  beginneth  and  the  rest  followed  him:  some 
times  he  maketh  invocations  with  broken  sentences,  by  starts 
and  strange  passions,  and  at  every  pause,  the  rest  give  a  short 
groane. 

It  could  not  bee  perceived  that  they  keepe  any  day  as  more 
holy  then  other:  but  only  in  some  great  distresse,  of  want,  feare 
of  enimies,  times  of  triumph  and  gathering  togither  their  fruits, 
the  whole  country  of  men  women  and  children  come  togither  to 
solemnities.  The  manner  of  their  devotion  is  sometimes  to  make 
a  great  fire  in  the  house  or  fields,  and  all  to  sing  and  dance  about 
it,  with  rattles  and  shouts  togither,  4  or  5  houres.  Sometimes 
they  set  a  man  in  the  midst,  and  about  him  they  dance  and  sing ; 
he  all  the  while  clapping  his  hands  as  if  he  would  keepe  time. 
And  after  their  songs  and  dauncings  ended,  they  goe  to  their 
Feasts. 

They  have  also  divers  conjurations.  One  they  made  when 
Captaine  Smith  was  their  prisoner;  (as  they  reported)  to  know 
if  any  more  of  his  countrymen  would  arrive  there,  and  what  he 
there  intended.  The  manner  of  it  was  thus. 

First  they  made  a  faire  fire  in  a  house.  About  this  fire  set  7 
Priests  setting  him  by  them;  and  about  the  fire,  they  made  a 
circle  of  meale.  That  done,  the  chiefe  Priest  attired  as  is  ex 
pressed,  began  to  shake  his  rattle;  and  the  rest  followed  him  in 
his  song.  At  the  end  of  the  song,  he  laid  downe  5  or  3  graines 
of  wheat,  and  so  continued  counting  his  songs  by  the^  graines, 
till  3  times  they  incirculed  the  fire.  Then  they  divide  the  graines 
by  certaine  numbers  with  little  stickes,  laying  downe  at  the  ende 
of  every  song  a  little  sticke. 


JOHN  SMITH  13 

In  this  manner,  they  sat  8,  10,  or  12  houres  without  cease,  with 
such  strange  stretching  of  their  armes,  and  violent  passions  and 
gestures  as  might  well  seeme  strange  to  him  they  so  conjured; 
wrho  but  every  houre  expected  his  end.  Not  any  meat  they  did 
eat  till,  late  in  the  evening,  they  had  finished  this  worke:  and 
then  they  feasted  him  and  themselves  with  much  mirth.  But  3 
or  4  daies  they  continued  this  ceremony. 

They  have  also  certaine  Altar  stones  they  call  Pawcorances : 
but  these  stand  from  their  Temples,  some  by  their  houses,  other 
in  the  woodes  and  wildernesses.  Upon  these,  they  offer  blood, 
deare  suet,  and  Tobacco.  These  they  doe  when  they  returne 
from  the  warres,  from  hunting,  and  upon  many  other  occasions. 

They  have  also  another  superstition  that  they  use  in  stormes, 
when  the  waters  are  rough  in  the  rivers  and  sea  coasts.  Their 
Conjurers  runne  to  the  water  sides,  or  passing  in  their  boats, 
after  many  hellish  outcries  and  invocations,  they  cast  Tobacco, 
Copper,  Pocones,  and  such  trash  into  the  water,  to  pacific  that 
God  whome  they  thinke  to  be  very  angry  in  those  stormes. 

Before  their  dinners  and  suppers,  the  better  sort  will  take  the 
first  bit,  and  cast  it  in  the  fire;  which  is  all  the  grace  they  are 
known  to  use. 

In  some  part  of  the  Country,  they  have  yearely  a  sacrifice  of 
children.  Such  a  one  was  at  Quiyoughcohanock,  some  10  miles 
from  James  Towne,  and  thus  performed. 

Fifteene  of  the  properest  young  boyes,  betweene  10  and  15 
yeares  of  age,  they  painted  white.  Having  brought  them  forth, 
the  people  spent  the  forenoone  in  dancing  and  singing  about 
them  with  rattles. 

In  the  afternoone,  they  put  those  children  to  the  roote  of  a 
tree.  By  them,  all  the  men  stood  in  a  guard,  every  one  having 
a  Bastinado  in  his  hand,  made  of  reeds  bound  together.  This 
made  a  lane  betweene  them  all  along,  through  which  there  were 
appointed  5  young  men  to  fetch  these  children.  So  every  one  of 
the  five  went  through  the  guard,  to  fetch  a  child,  each  after  other 
by  turnes:  the  guard  fearelessly  beating  them  with  their  Bas 
tinadoes,  and  they  patiently  enduring  and  receaving  all;  defend 
ing  the  children  with  their  naked  bodies  from  the  unmercifull 
blowes  they  pay  them  soundly,  though  the  children  escape.  All 


14  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

this  while,  the  women  weepe  and  crie  out  very  passionately; 
providing  mats,  skinnes,  mosse,  and  drie  wood,  as  things  fitting 
their  childrens  funerals. 

After  the  children  were  thus  passed  the  guard,  the  guard  tore 
down  the  tree,  branches  and  boughs,  with  such  violence,  that 
they  rent  the  body,  and  made  wreathes  for  their  heads,  or  be 
decked  their  haire  with  the  leaves.  What  else  was  done  with 
the  children  was  not  scene;  but  they  were  all  cast  on  a  heape  in 
a  valley,  as  dead :  where  they  made  a  great  feast  for  al  the  com 
pany. 

The  Werowance  being  demanded  the  meaning  of  this  sacrifice, 
answered  that  the  children  were  not  al  dead,  but  that  the  Oke  or 
Dwell  did  sucke  the  blood  from  their  left  breast,  who  chanced  to 
be  his  by  lot,  till  they  were  dead.  But  the  rest  were  kept  in  the 
wildernesse  by  the  yong  men  till  nine  moneths  were  expired, 
during  which  time  they  must  not  converse  with  any:  and  of 
these  were  made  their  Priests  and  Conjurers. 

This  sacrifice  they  held  to  bee  so  necessarie,  that  if  they  should 
omit  it,  their  Oke  or  Divel  and  all  their  other  Quiyoughcosughes 
(which  are  their  other  Gods)  would  let  them  have  no  Deare, 
Turkies,  Corne,  nor  fish :  and  yet  besides,  hee  would  make  great 
slaughter  amongst  them. 

They  thinke  that  their  Werowances  and  Priestes,  which  they 
also  esteeme  Quiyoughcosughes,  when  they  are  dead,  doe  goe 
beyound  the  mountaines  towardes  the  setting  of  the  sun,  and 
ever  remaine  there  in  forme  of  their  Oke,  with  their  heads  painted 
with  oile  and  Pocones,  finely  trimmed  with  feathers;  and  shal 
have  beades,  hatchets,  copper,  and  tobacco,  doing  nothing  but 
dance  and  sing  with  all  their  Predecessors. 

But  the  common  people,  they  suppose  shall  not  live  after  death. 

ON  COLONIZATION 

[From  "A  Description  of  New  England"] 

Who  can  desire  more  content,  that  hath  small  meanes ;  or  but 
only  his  merit  to  advance  his  fortune,  then  to  tread,  and  plant 
that  ground  hee  hath  purchased  by  the  hazard  of  his  life?  If 


JOHN   SMITH  15 

he  have  but  the  taste  of  virtue  and  magnanimitie,  what  to  such 
a  minde  can  bee  more  pleasant,  then  planting  and  building  a 
foundation  for  his  Posteritie,  gotte  from  the  rude  earth,  by  Gods 
blessing  and  his  owne  industrie,  without  prejudice  to  any?  if 
hee  have  any  graine  of  faith  or  zeale  in  Religion,  what  can  hee 
doe  lesse  hurtfull  to  any:  or  more  agreeable  to  God  then  to  seeke 
to  convert  those  poore  Salvages  to  know  Christ,  and  humanitie, 
whose  labors  with  discretion  will  tripple  requite  thy  charge  and 
paines?  What  so  truely  sutes  with  honour  and  honestie,'  as  the 
discovering  things  unknowne?  erecting  Townes,  peopling  Coun 
tries,  informing  the  ignorant,  reforming  things  unjust,  teaching 
virtue;  and  gaine  to  our  Native  mother-countrie  a  kingdom  to 
attend  her:  finde  imployment  for  those  that  are  idle,  because 
they  know  not  what  to  doe :  so  farre  from  wronging  any,  as  to 
cause  Posteritie  to  remember  thee;  and  remembering  thee,  ever 
honour  that  remembrance  with  praise? 

Consider :  What  were  the  beginnings  and  endings  of  the  Monar- 
kies  of  the  Chaldeans,  the  Syrians,  the  Grecians,  and  Romanes, 
but  this  one  rule;  WThat  was  it  they  would  not  doe,  for  the  good 
of  the  commonwealth,  or  their  Mother-citie?  For  example: 
Rome,  what  made  her  such  a  Monarchesse,  but  onely  the  adven 
tures  of  her  youth,  not  in  riots  at  home;  but  in  dangers  abroade? 
and  the  justice  and  judgement  out  of  their  experience,  when  they 
grewe  aged.  WTiat  was  their  ruine  and  hurt,  but  this;  The 
excesse  of  idlenesse,  the  fondnesse  of  Parents,  the  want  of  experi 
ence  in  Magistrates,  the  admiration  of  their  undeserved  honours, 
the  contempt  of  true  merit,  their  unjust  jealosies,  their  politicke 
incredulities,  their  hypocriticall  seeming  goodnesse,  and  their 
deeds  of  secret  lewdnesse?  finally,  in  fine,  growing  onely  formall 
temporists,  all  that  their  predecessors  got  in  many  years,  they 
lost  in  a  few  daies.  Those  by  their  pain  and  vertues  became 
Lords  of  the  world;  they  by  their  ease  and  vices  became  slaves 
to  their  servants.  This  is  the  difference  betwixt  the  use  of  Armes 
in  the  field,  and  on  the  monuments  of  stones ;  the  golden  age  and 
the  leaden  age,  prosperity  and  miserie,  justice  and  corruption, 
substance  and  shadowes,  words  and  deeds,  experience  and  imagi 
nation,  making  Commonwealths  and  marring  Commonwealths,  the 
fruits  of  vertue  and  the  conclusions  of  vice. 


l6  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

Then,  who  would  live  at  home  idly  (or  thinke  in  himselfe  any 
worth  to  live)  onely  to  eate,  drink,  and  sleepe,  and  so  die?  Or 
by  consuming  that  carelesly,  his  friends  got  worthily?  Or  by 
using  that  miserably,  that  maintained  vertue  honestly?  Or  for 
being  descended  nobly,  pine  with  the  vaine  vaunt  of  great  kindred, 
in  penurie?  Or  (to  maintaine  a  silly  shewe  of  bravery)  toyle 
out  thy  heart,  soule,  and  time,  basely;  by  shifts,  tricks,  cards, 
and  dice?  Or  by  relating  newes  of  others  actions,  sharke  here 
or  there  for  a  dinner,  or  supper;  deceive  thy  friends,  by  faire 
promises  and  dissimulation,  in  borrowing  where  thou  never  in- 
tendest  to  pay;  offend  the  lawes,  surfeit  with  excesse,  burden 
thy  Country,  abuse  thy  selfe,  despaire  in  want,  and  then  couzen 
thy  kindred,  yea  even  thine  owne  brother,  and  wish  thy  parents 
death  (I  will  not  say  damnation)  to  have  their  estates?  though 
thou  seest  what  honours,  and  rewards,  the  world  yet  hath  for 
them  will  seeke  them  and  worthily  deserve  them. 


A  DIVERSION  FOR  THE  LADIES 

[From  "The  True  Tra veils,  Adventures,  and  Observations  of- Captain  John 

Smith"] 

Which  slow  proceedings  the  Turkes  oft  derided,  that  the  Ord 
nance  were  at  pawne,  and  how  they  grew  fat  for  want  of  exercise ; 
and  fearing  lest  they  should  depart  ere  they  could  assault  their 
Citie,  sent  this  Challenge  to  any  Captaine  in  the  Armie. 

That  to  delight  the  Ladies,  who  did  long  to  see  some  court- 
like  pastime,  the  Lord  Turbashaw  did  dene  any  Captaine,  that 
had  the  command  of  a  Company,  who  durst  combate  with  him 
for  his  head. 

The  matter  being  discussed,  it  was  accepted;  but  so  many 
questions  grew  for  the  undertaking,  it  was  decided  by  lots :  which 
fell  upon  Captaine  Smith,  before  spoken  of. 

Truce  being  made  for  that  time,  the  Rampiers  all  beset  with 
faire  Dames,  and  men  in  Armes,  the  Christians  in  Battalio;  Tur 
bashaw  with  a  noise  of  Howboyes  entred  the  fields  well  mounted 
and  armed;  on  his  shoulders  were  fixed  a  paire  of  great  wings, 
compacted  of  Eagles  feathers  within  a  ridge  of  silver,  richly  gar- 


JOHN  SMITH  17 

nished  with  gold  and  precious  stones;  a  Janizary  before  him, 
bearing  his  Lance;  on  each  side,  another  leading  his  horse: 
where  long  hee  stayed  not,  ere  Smith  with  a  noise  of  Trumpets, 
only  a  Page  bearing  his  Lance,  passing  by  him  writh  a  courteous 
salute,  tooke  his  ground  with  such  good  successe,  that  at  the 
sound  of  the  charge,  he  passed  the  Turke  throw  the  sight  of  his 
Beaver,  face,  head,  and  all,  that  he  fell  dead  to  the  ground; 
where  alighting  and  unbracing  his  Helmet,  cut  off  his  head,  and 
the  Turkes  tooke  his  body;  and  so  returned  without  any  hurt 
at  all. 

The  head  hee  presented  to  the  Lord  Moses,  the  Generall,  who 
kindly  accepted  it;  and  with  joy  to  the  whole  armie  he  was 
generally  welcomed. 

The  death  of  this  Captaine  so  swelled  in  the  heart  of  one  Cru- 
algo,  his  vowed  friend,  as,  rather  inraged  with  madnesse  than 
choller,  he  directed  a  particular  challenge  to  the  Conqueror,  to 
regaine  his  friends  head,  or  lose  his  owne,  with  his  horse  and 
Armour  for  advantage:  which  according  to  his  desire,  was  the 
next  day  undertaken. 

As  before,  upon  the  sound  of  the  Trumpets,  their  Lances  flew 
in  peeces  upon  a  cleare  passage;  but  the  Turke  was  neere  un 
horsed.  Their  Pistolls  was  the  next,  which  marked  Smith  upon 
the  placard ;  but  the  next  shot  the  Turke  was  so  wounded  in  the 
left  arme,  that  being  not  able  to  rule  his  horse,  and  defend  him- 
selfe,  he  was  throwne  to  the  ground;  and  so  bruised  with  the 
fall,  that  he  lost  his  head,  as  his  friend  before  him;  with  his 
horse  and  Armour:  but  his  body  and  his  rich  apparell  was  sent 
backe  to  the  Towne. 

Every  day  the  Turkes  made  some  sallies,  but  few  skirmishes 
would  they  endure  to  any  purpose.  Our  workes  and  approaches 
being  not  yet  advanced  to  that  height  and  effect  which  was  of 
necessitie  to  be  performed;  to  delude  time,  Smith,  with  so  many 
incontradictible  perswading  reasons,  obtained  leave  that  the 
Ladies  might  know  he  was  not  so  much  enamoured  of  their 
servants  heads,  but  if  any  Turke  of  their  ranke  would  come  to 
the  place  of  combate  to  redeeme  them,  should  have  his  also  upon 
the  like  conditions,  if  he  could  winne  it. 

The  challenge  presently  was  accepted  by  Bonny  Mulgro. 


l8  EARLY  AMERICAN   WRITERS 

The  next  day  both  the  champions  entring  the  field  as  before, 
each  discharging  their  Pistoll  (having  no  Lances,  but  such  mar- 
tiall  weapons  as  the  defendant  appointed) ,  no  hurt  was  done ;  their 
Battle-axes  was  the  next,  whose  piercing  bils  made  sometime  the 
one,  sometime  the  other  to  have  scarce  sense  to  keepe  their 
saddles:  specially  the  Christian  received  such  a  blow  that  he 
lost  his  Battle-axe,  and  failed  not  much  to  have  fallen  after  it; 
whereat  the  supposing  conquering  Turk,  had  a  great  shout  from 
the  Rampiers.  The  Turk  prosecuted  his  advantage  to  the  utter 
most  of  his  power;  yet  the  other,  what  by  the  readinesse  of  his 
horse,  and  his  judgement  and  dexterity  in  such  a  businesse,  be 
yond  all  mens  expectation,  by  Gods  assistance,  not  onely  avoided 
the  Turkes  violence,  but  having  drawne  his  Faulchion,  pierced 
the  Turke  so  under  the  Culets  thorow  backe  and  body,  that  al 
though  he  alighted  from  his  horse,  he  stood  not  long  ere  hee  lost 
his  head,  as  the  rest  had  done. 


WILLIAM    STRACHEY 

[Little  is  known  of  William  Strachey  except  that  he  accompanied  Sir 
Thomas  Gates  on  his  unfortunate  expedition  to  Virginia  in  1609,  and  served 
as  secretary  of  the  colony  for  about  three  years.  The  ship  bearing  Gates 
and  Strachey  was  separated  from  the  rest  of  the  fleet  and  wrecked  on  the 
Bermudas,  from  which  the  survivors  escaped  to  Jamestown  nearly  a  year 
later.  Strachey's  chief  work  written  while  he  was  in  America  is  an  account 
of  these  and  subsequent  experiences,  which  he  sent  to  London  in  1610,  and 
which  was  published  in  "Purchas  His  Pilgrimes"  under  the  title  of  "A  true 
repertory  of  the  wracke,  and  redemption  of  Sir  Thomas  Gates  Knight;  upon, 
and  from  the  Hands  of  the  Bermudas:  his  comming  to  Virginia,  and  the 
estate  of  that  Colonie  then,  and  after,  under  the  government  of  the  Lord  La 
Warre."  As  secretary  he  compiled  for  the  colony  "Lawes  Divine,  Morall, 
and  Martiall,"  published  in  London  in  1612;  and  after  his  return  to  Eng 
land  he  wrote  "The  Historie  of  Travaile  into  Virginia  Brittahia,"  which 
remained  in  manuscript  until  1849. 

William  Strachey  was  evidently  a  man  of  education  who  had  seen  some 
thing  of  the  world.  His  writings  are,  however,  very  uneven,  and  it  is  only 
when  he  is  inspired  by  his  subject  that  he  attains  any  distinction  of  style. 
That  he  is  remembered  above  his  contemporaries  is  due  in  part  to  the  fact 
that  the  powerful  description  of  a  storm,  given  in  the  following  pages,  has 
been  supposed  by  some  critics  to  have  given  Shakespeare  suggestions  for 
"The  Tempest."  The  evidence  on  this  point  is  purely  circumstantial,  and 
unless  new  facts  are  brought  to  light,  it  will  always  be  impossible  to  reach 
a  definite  conclusion.  An  impartial  statement  of  the  case  may  be  found  in 
Furness's  Variorum  edition  of  "The  Tempest." 

The  text  which  follows  is  from  "Purchas  His  Pilgrimes,"  London,  1625, 
reprinted  Glasgow,  1906.] 

A  STORM  AND  A  SHIPWRECK 

[From  "The  Wrack  and  Redemption  of  Sir  Thomas  Gates"] 

Excellent  Lady,  know  that  upon  Friday  late  in  the  evening, 
we  brake  ground  out  of  the  Sound  of  Plymouth,  our  whole 
Fleete  then  consisting  of  seven  good  Ships,  and  two  Pinnaces, 
all  which  from  the  said  second  of  June,  unto  the  twenty  three  of 
July,  kept  in  friendly  consort  together,  not  a  whole  watch  at  any 
time  loosing  the  sight  each  of  other.  Our  course  when  we  came 
about  the  height  of  betweene  26.  and  27.  degrees,  we  declined 

19 


20  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

to  the  Northward,  and  according  to  our  Governours  instructions 
altered  the  trade  and  ordinary  way  used  heretofore  by  Dominico, 
and  Mevis,  in  the  West  Indies,  and  found  the  winde  to  this  course 
indeede  as  friendly,  as  in  the  judgement  of  all  Sea-men,  it  is  upon 
a  more  direct  line,  and  by  Sir  George  Summers  our  Admirall  had 
bin  likewise  in  former  time  sailed,  being  a  Gentleman  of  ap 
proved  assurednesse,  and  ready  knowledge  in  Sea-faring  actions, 
having  often  carried  command,  and  chiefe  charge  in  many  Ships 
Royall  of  her  Majesties,  and  in  sundry  Voyages  made  many  de 
feats  and  attempts  in  the  time  of  the  Spaniards  quarrelling  with 
us,  upon  the  Hands  and  Indies,  &c.  We  had  followed  this 
course  so  long,  as  now  we  were  within  seven  or  eight  dayes  at 
the  most,  by  Cap.  Newports  reckoning  of  making  Cape  Henry 
upon  the  coast  of  Virginia:  When  on  S.  James  his  day,  July  24. 
being  Monday  (preparing  for  no  lesse  all  the  blacke  night  before) 
the  cloudes  gathering  thicke  upon  us,  and  the  windes  singing, 
and  whistling  most  unusually,  which  made  us  to  cast  off  our 
Pinnace,  towing  the  same  untill  then  asterne,  a  dreadfull  storme 
and  hideous  began  to  blow  from  out  the  North-east,  which  swell 
ing,  and  roaring  as  it  were  by  fits,  some  houres  with  more  vio 
lence  then  others,  at  length  did  beate  all  light  from  heaven; 
which  like  an  hell  of  darknesse  turned  blacke  upon  us,  so  much 
the  more  fuller  of  horror,  as  in  such  cases  horror  and  feare 
use  to  overrunne  the  troubled,  and  overmastered  sences  of  all, 
which  (taken  up  with  amazement)  the  eares  lay  so  sensible  to 
the  terrible  cries,  and  murmurs  of  the  windes,  and  distraction  of 
our  Company,  as  who  was  most  armed,  and  best  prepared,  was 
not  a  little  shaken.  For  surely  (Noble  Lady)  as  death  comes 
not  so  sodaine  nor  apparant,  so  he  comes  not  so  elvish  and  pain- 
full  (to  men  especially  even  then  in  health  and  perfect  habitudes 
of  body)  as  at  Sea;  who  comes  at  no  time  so  welcome,  but  our 
frailty  (so  weake  is  the  hold  of  hope  in  miserable  demonstrations 
of  danger)  it  makes  guilty  of  many  contrary  changes,  and  con 
flicts:  For  indeede  death  is  accompanied  at  no  time,  nor  place 
with  circumstances  every  way  so  uncapable  of  particularities  of 
goodnesse  and  inward  comforts  as  at  Sea.  For  it  is  most  true, 
there  ariseth  commonly  no  such  unmercifull  tempest,  compound 
of  so  many  contrary  and  divers  Nations,  but  that  it  worketh  upon 


WILLIAM   STRACHEY  21 

the  whole  frame  of  the  body,  and  most  loathsomely  affecteth  all 
the  powers  thereof:  and  the  manner  of  the  sickenesse  it  laies 
upon  the  body,  being  so  unsufferable,  gives  not  the  minde  any 
free  and  quiet  time,  to  use  her  judgement  and  Empire:  which 
made  the  poet  say: 

Hostium  uxores,  puerique  caecos 
Sentiant  motus  orientis  Haedi,   & 
^Equoris  nigri  fremitum,   &  trementes 
Verbere  ripas. 

For  foure  and  twenty  houres  the  storme  in  a  restlesse  tumult, 
had  blowne  so  exceedingly,  as  we  could  not  apprehend  in  our 
imaginations  any  possibility  of  greater  violence,  yet  did  wee  still 
finde  it,  not  onely  more  terrible,  but  more  constant,  fury  added 
to  fur)',  and  one  storme  urging  a  second  more  outragious  then 
the  former;  whether  it  so  wrought  upon  our  feares,  or  indeede 
met  with  new  forces:  Sometimes  strikes  in  our  Ship  amongst 
women,  and  passengers,  not  used  to  such  hurly  and  discomforts, 
made  us  looke  one  upon  the  other  with  troubled  hearts,  and 
panting  bosomes:  our  clamours  dround  in  the  windes,  and  the 
windes  in  thunder.  Prayers  might  well  be  in  the  heart  and  lips, 
but  drowned  in  the  outcries  of  the  Officers:  nothing  heard  that 
could  give  comfort,  nothing  scene  that  might  incourage  hope.  It 
is  impossible  for  me,  had  I  the  voyce  of  Stentor,  and  expression 
of  as  many  tongues,  as  his  throate  of  voyces,  to  expresse  the  out 
cries  and  miseries,  not  languishing,  but  wasting  his  spirits,  and 
art  constant  to  his  owne  principles,  but  not  prevailing.  Our 
sailes  wound  up  lay  without  their  use,  and  if  at  any  time  wee 
bore  but  a  Hollocke,  or  halfe  forecourse,  to  guide  her  before  the 
Sea,  six  and  sometimes  eight  men  were  not  inough  to  hold  the 
whipstaffe  in  the  steerage,  and  the  tiller  below  in  the  Gunner 
roome,  by  which  may  be  imagined  the  strength  of  the  storme: 
In  which,  the  Sea  swelled  above  the  Clouds,  and  gave  battell 
unto  Heaven.  It  could  not  be  said  to  raine,  the  waters  like  whole 
Rivers  did  flood  in  the  ayre.  And  this  I  did  still  observe,  that 
wheras  upon  the  Land,  when  a  storme  hath  powred  it  selfe  forth 
once  in  drifts  of  raine,  the  winde  as  beaten  downe,  and  vanquished 
therewith,  not  long  after  indureth :  here  the  glut  of  water  (as  if 
throatling  the  winde  ere  while)  was  no  sooner  a  little  emptied 


22  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

and  qualified,  but  instantly  the  windes  (as  having  gotten  their 
mouthes  now  free,  and  at  liberty)  spake  more  loud,  and  grew 
more  tumultuous,  and  malignant.  What  shall  I  say?  Windes 
and  Seas  were  as  mad,  as  fury  and  rage  could  make  them;  for 
mine  owne  part,  I  had  bin  in  some  stormes  before,  as  well  upon 
the  coast  of  Barbary  and  Algeere,  in  the  Levant,  and  once  more 
distressfull  in  the  Adriatique  gulfe,  in  a  bottome  of  Candy,  so  as 
I  may  well  say.  Ego  quid  sit  ater  Adriae  novi  sinus,  &  quid 
albus  Peccet  lapex.  Yet  all  that  I  had  ever  suffered  gathered 
together,  might  not  hold  comparison  with  this:  there  was  not  a 
moment  in  which  the  sodaine  splitting,  or  instant  over-setting  of 
the  Shippe  was  not  expected. 

Howbeit  this  was  not  all;  It  pleased  God  to  bring  a  greater 
affliction  yet  upon  us;  for  in  the  beginning  of  the  storme  we  had 
received  likewise  a  mighty  leake.  And  the  Ship  in  every  joynt 
almost,  having  spued  out  her  Oakam,  before  we  were  aware  (a 
casualty  more  desperate  then  any  other  that  a  Voyage  by  Sea 
draweth  with  it)  was  growne  five  foote  suddenly  deepe  with  water 
above  her  ballast,  and  we  almost  drowned  within,  whilst  we  sat 
looking  when  to  perish  from  above.  This  imparting  no  lesse 
terrour  then  danger,  ranne  through  the  whole  Ship  with  much 
fright  and  amazement,  startled  and  turned  the  bloud,  and  tooke 
downe  the  braves  of  the  most  hardy  Marriner  of  them  all,  inso 
much  as  he  that  before  happily  felt  not  the  sorrow  of  others,  now 
began  to  sorrow  for  himselfe,  when  he  saw  such  a  pond  of  water 
so  suddenly  broken  in,  and  which  he  knew  could  not  (without 
present  avoiding)  but  instantly  sinke  him.  So  as  joyning  (onely 
for  his  owne  sake,  not  yet  worth  the  saving)  in  the  publique 
safety ;  there  might  be  scene  Master,  Masters  Mate,  Boateswaine, 
Quarter  Master,  Coopers,  Carpenters,  and  who  not,  with  candels 
in  their  hands,  creeping  along  the  ribs  viewing  the  sides,  searching 
every  corner,  and  listening  in  every  place,  if  they  could  heare  the 
water  runne.  Many  a  weeping  leake  was  this  way  found,  and 
hastily  stopt,  and  at  length  one  in  the  Gunner  roome  made  up 
with  I  know  not  how  many  peeces  of  Beefe :  but  all  was  to  no  pur 
pose,  the  Leake  (if  it  were  but  one)  which  drunke  in  our  greatest 
Seas,  and  tooke  in  our  destruction  fastest,  could  not  then  be  found, 
nor  ever  was,  by  any  labour,  counsell,  or  search.  The  waters  still 


WILLIAM   STRACHEY 


23 


increasing,  and  the  Pumpes  going,  which  at  length  choaked  with 
bringing  up  whole  and  continuall  Bisket  (and  indeede  all  we  had, 
tenne  thousand  weight)  it  was  conceived,  as  most  likely,  that  the 
Leake  might  be  sprung  in  the  Bread-roome,  whereupon  the  Car 
penter  went  downe,  and  ript  up  all  the  roome,  but  could  not  finde 
it  so. 

I  am  not  able  to  give  unto  your  Ladiship  every  mans  thought  in 
this  perplexity,  to  which  we  were  now  brought;  but  to  me,  this 
Leakage  appeared  as  a  wound  given  to  men  that  were  before  dead. 
The  Lord  knoweth,  I  had  as  little  hope,  as  desire  of  life  in  the 
storme,  &  in  this,  it  went  beyond  my  will;  because  beyond  my 
reason,  why  we  should  labour  to  preserve  life ;  yet  we  did,  either 
because  so  deare  are  a  few  lingring  houres  of  life  in  all  mankinde, 
or  that  our  Christian  knowledges  taught  us,  how  much  wre  owed  to 
the  rites  of  Nature,  as  bound,  not  to  be  false  to  our  selves,  or  to 
neglect  the  meanes  of  our  owne  preservation;  the  most  despaire- 
full  things  amongst  men,  being  matters  of  no  wonder  nor  moment 
with  him,  who  is  the  rich  Fountaine  and  admirable  Essence  of  all 
mercy. 

Our  Governour,  upon  the  tuesday  morning  (at  what  time,  by 
such  who  had  bin  below  in  the  hold,  the  Leake  was  first  discovered) 
had  caused  the  whole  Company,  about  one  hundred  and  forty, 
besides  wromen,  to  be  equally  divided  into  three  parts,  and  opening 
the  Ship  in  three  places  (under  the  forecastle,  in  the  waste,  and  hard 
by  the  Bitacke)  appointed  each  man  where  to  attend ;  and  there 
unto  every  man  came  duely  upon  his  watch,  tooke  the  Bucket,  or 
Pumpe  for  one  houre,  and  rested  another.  Then  men  might  be 
seene  to  labour,  I  may  well  say,  for  life,  and  the  better  sort,  even 
our  Governour,  and  Admirall  themselves,  not  refusing  their  turne, 
and  to  spell  each  the  other,  to  give  example  to  other.  The  com 
mon  sort  stripped  naked,  as  men  in  Gallies,  the  easier  both  to  hold 
out,  and  to  shrinke  from  under  the  salt  water,  which  continually 
leapt  in  among  them,  kept  their  eyes  waking,  and  their  thoughts 
and  hands  working,  with  tyred  bodies,  and  wasted  spirits,  three 
dayes  and  foure  nights  destitute  of  outward  comfort,  and  desperate 
of  any  deliverance,  testifying  how  mutually  willing  they  were,  yet 
by  labour  to  keepe  each  other  from  drowning,  albeit  each  one 
drowned  whilest  he  laboured. 


24  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

Once,  so  huge  a  Sea  brake  upon  the  poope  and  quarter  upon  us, 
as  it  covered  our  Shippe  from  stearne  to  stemme,  like  a  garment  or 
a  vast  cloude,  it  filled  her  brimme  full  for  a  while  within,  from 
the  hatches  up  to  the  sparre  decke.  This  source  or  confluence  of 
water  was  so  violent,  as  it  rusht  and  carried  the  Helm-man  from 
the  Helme,  and  wrested  the  Whip-staffe  out  of  his  hand,  which  so 
flew  from  side  to  side,  that  when  he  would  have  ceased  the  same 
againe,  it  so  tossed  him  from  Star-boord  to  Lar-boord,  as  it  was 
Gods  mercy  it  had  not  split  him :  It  so  beat  him  from  his  hold, 
and  so  bruised  him,  as  a  fresh  man  hazarding  in  by  chance  fell 
faire  with  it,  and  by  maine  strength  bearing  somewhat  up,  made 
good  his  place,  and  with  much  clamour  incouraged  and  called 
upon  others ;  who  gave  her  now  up,  rent  in  pieces  and  absolutely 
lost.  Our  Governour  was  at  this  time  below  at  the  Capstone,  both 
by  his  speech  and  authoritie  heartening  every  man  unto  his  labour. 
It  strooke  him  from  the  place  where  hee  sate,  and  groveled  him, 
and  all  us  about  him  on  our  faces,  beating  together  with  our 
breaths  all  thoughts  from  our  bosomes,  else,  then  that  wee  were 
now  sinking.  For  my  part,  I  thought  her  alreadie  in  the  bottome 
of  the  Sea;  and  I  have  heard  him  say,  wading  out  of  the  floud 
thereof,  all  his  ambition  was  but  to  climbe  up  above  hatches  to 
dye  in  Aperto  ccelo,  and  in  the  company  of  his  old  friends.  It  so 
stun'd  the  ship  in  her  full  pace,  that  shee  stirred  no  more,  then  if 
shee  had  beene  caught  in  a  net,  or  then,  as  if  the  fabulous  Remora 
had  stucke  to  her  fore-castle.  Yet  without  bearing  one  inch  of 
saile,  even  then  shee  was  making  her  way  nine  or  ten  leagues  in  a 
watch.  One  thing,  it  is  not  without  his  wonder  (whether  it  were 
the  feare  of  death  in  so  great  a  storme,  or  that  it  pleased  God  to  be 
gracious  unto  us)  there  was  not  a  passenger,  gentleman,  or  other, 
after  hee  beganne  to  stirre  and  labour,  but  was  able  to  relieve  his 
fellow,  and  make  good  his  course :  And  it  is  most  true,  such  as  in 
all  their  life  times  had  never  done  houres  worke  before  (their 
mindes  now  helping  their  bodies)  were  able  twice  fortie  eight  houres 
together  to  toile  with  the  best. 

During  all  this  time,  the  heavens  look'd  so  blacke  upon  us, 
that  it  was  not  possible  the  elevation  of  the  Pole  might  be  observed: 
nor  a  Starre  by  night,  not  Sunne  beame  by  day  was  to  be  scene. 
Onely  upon  the  thursday  night  Sir  George  Summers  being  upon 


WILLIAM  STRACHEY  25 

the  watch,  had  an  apparition  of  a  little  round  light,  like  a  faint 
Starre,  trembling,  and  streaming  along  with  a  sparkeling  blaze, 
halfe  the  height  upon  the  Maine  Mast,  and  shooting  sometimes 
from  Shroud  to  Shroud,  tempting  to  settle  as  it  were  upon  any  of 
the  foure  Shrouds:  and  for  three  or  foure  houres  together,  or 
rather  more,  halfe  the  night  it  kept  with  us;  running  sometimes 
along  the  Maine-yard  to  the  very  end,  and  then  returning.  At 
which,  Sir  George  Summers  called  divers  about  him,  and  shewed 
them  the  same,  who  observed  it  with  much  wonder,  and  careful- 
nesse:  but  upon  a  sodaine,  towards  the  morning  watch,  they 
lost  the  sight  of  it,  and  knew  not  what  way  it  made.  The  super 
stitious  Sea-men  make  many  constructions  of  this  Sea-fire,  which 
neverthelesse  is  usuall  in  stormes :  the  same  (it  may  be)  which  the 
Grecians  were  wont  in  the  Mediterranean  to  call  Castor  and 
Pollux,  of  which,  if  one  onely  appeared  without  the  other,  they 
tooke  it  for  an  evill  signe  of  great  tempest.  The  Italians,  and 
such,  who  lye  open  to  the  Adriatique  and  Tyrrene  Sea,  call  it 
(a  sacred  Body)  Corpo  sancto:  the  Spaniards  call  it  Saint  Elmo, 
and  have  an  authentique  and  miraculous  Legend  for  it.  Be  it  what 
it  will,  we  laid  other  foundations  of  safety  or  ruine,  then  in  the 
rising  or  falling  of  it,  could  it  have  served  us  now  miraculously  to 
have  taken  our  height  by,  it  might  have  strucken  amazement,  and 
a  reverence  in  our  devotions,  according  to  the  due  of  a  miracle. 
But  it  did  not  light  us  any  wrhit  the  more  to  our  knowne  way,  who 
ran  now  (as  doe  hoodwinked  men)  at  all  adventures,  sometimes 
North,  and  North-east,  then  North  and  by  West,  and  in  an  in 
stant  againe  varying  two  or  three  points,  and  sometimes  halfe  the 
Compasse.  East  and  by  South  we  steered  away  as  much  as  we 
could  to  beare  upright,  which  was  no  small  carefulnesse  nor  paine 
to  doe,  albeit  we  much  unrigged  our  Ship,  threw  over-boord  much 
luggage,  many  a  Trunke  and  Chest  (in  which  I  suffered  no  meane 
losse)  and  staved  many  a  Butt  of  Beere,  Hogsheads  of  Oyle, 
Syder,  Wine,  and  Vinegar,  and  heaved  away  all  our  Ordnance  on 
the  Starboord  side,  and  had  now  purposed  to  have  cut  downe  the 
Maine  Mast,  the  more  to  lighten  her,  for  we  were  much  spent,  and 
our  men  so  weary,  as  their  strengths  together  failed  them,  with 
their  hearts,  having  travailed  now  from  Tuesday  till  Friday  morn 
ing,  day  and  night,  without  either  sleepe  or  foode ;  for  the  leakeage 


26  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

taking  up  all  the  hold,  wee  coud  neither  come  by  Beere  nor  fresh 
water ;  fire  we  could  keepe  none  in  the  Cooke-roome  to  dresse  any 
meate,  and  carefulnesse,  griefe,  and  our  turne  at  the  Pumpe  or 
Bucket,  were  sufficient  to  hold  sleepe  from  our  eyes. 

And  surely,  Madam,  it  is  most  true,  there  was  not  any  houre  (a 
matter  of  admiration)  all  these  dayes,  in  which  we  freed  not  twelve 
hundred  Barricos  of  water,  the  least  whereof  contained  six  gallons, 
and  some  eight,  besides  three  deepe  Pumpes  continually  going,  two 
beneath  at  the  Capstone,  and  the  other  above  in  the  halfe  Decke, 
and  at  each  Pumpe  foure  thousand  stroakes  at  the  least  in  a  watch ; 
so  as  I  may  well  say,  every  foure  houres,  we  quitted  one  hundred 
tunnes  of  water:  and  from  tuesday  noone  till  friday  noone,  we 
bailed  and  pumped  two  thousand  tunne,  and  yet  doe  what  we  could, 
when  our  Ship  held  least  in  her,  (after  tuesday  night  second  watch) 
shee  bore  ten  foote  deepe,  at  which  stay  our  extreame  working 
kept  her  one  eight  glasses,  forbearance  whereof  had  instantly 
sunke  us,  and  it  being  now  Friday,  the  fourth  morning,  it  wanted 
little,  but  that  there  had  bin  a  generall  determination,  to  have 
shut  up  hatches,  and  commending  our  sinfull  soules  to  God,  com 
mitted  the  Shippe  to  the  mercy  of  the  Sea:  surely,  that  night  we 
must  have  done  it,  and  that  night  had  we  then  perished :  but  see 
the  goodnesse  and  sweet  introduction  of  better  hope,  by  our  merci- 
full  God  given  unto  us.  Sir  George  Summers,  when  no  man 
dreamed  of  such  happinesse,  had  discovered,  and  cried  Land. 
Indeede  the  morning  now  three  quarters  spent,  had  wonne  a  little 
cleerenesse  from  the  dayes  before,  and  it  being  better  surveyed,  the 
very  trees  were  scene  to  move  with  the  winde  upon  the  shoare 
side:  whereupon  our  Governour  commanded  the  Helme-man  to 
beare  up,  the  Boateswaine  sounding  at  the  first,  found  it  thirteene 
f athome,  &  when  we  stood  a  little  in  seven  fatham ;  and  presently 
heaving  his  lead  the  third  time,  had  ground  at  foure  fathome, 
and  by  this,  we  had  got  her  within  a  mile  under  the  South-east 
point  of  the  land,  where  we  had  somewhat  smooth  water.  But 
having  no  hope  to  save  her  by  comming  to  an  anker  in  the  same,  we 
were  inforced  to  runne  her  ashoare,  as  neere  the  land  as  we  could, 
which  brought  us  within  three  quarters  of  a  mile  of  shoare,  and 
by  the  mercy  of  God  unto  us,  making  out  our  Boates,  we  had  ere 
night  brought  all  our  men,  women,  and  children,  about  the  number 
of  one  hundred  and  fifty,  safe  into  the  Hand. 


WILLIAM    BRADFORD 

[William  Bradford  was  born  in  Yorkshire,  England,  in  1588.  He  joined 
the  Separatists  in  1606,  went  to  Holland  in  1608,  and  though  a  young  man 
was  prominent  in  the  affairs  of  the  church  at  Amsterdam  and  Leyden.  He 
seems  to  have  been  active  in  urging  emigration  to  America,  and  he  sailed  in 
the  Mayflower.  When  Governor  Carver  died,  a  few  months  after  the  land 
ing  at  Plymouth,  Bradford  was  chosen  his  successor,  and  was  annually 
reflected  for  many  years.  He  died  in  1657. 

Although  Bradford  was  not  of  high  social  position,  and  had  no  regular 
opportunities  for  a  liberal  education,  he  gained  some  knowledge  of  the 
classics,  and  in  his  later  years  attempted  to  learn  Hebrew.  In  his  exercise 
book  he  notes:  "Though  I  am  growne  aged,  yet  I  have  had  a  longing  desire, 
to  see  with  my  own  eyes,  something  of  that  most  ancient  language,  and  holy 
tongue,  in  which  the  Law  and  oracles  of  God  were  write;  and  in  which  God, 
and  angels,  spake  to  the  holy  patriarchs,  of  old  time;  and  what  names  were 
given  to  things,  from  the  creation."  Governor  Bradford  was  a  somewhat 
voluminous  writer,  though  but  one  of  his  works  was  published  during  his 
lifetime.  This  was  a  journal  containing  the  experiences  of  the  colonists 
from  November,  1620,  to  December,  1621,  and  was  the  joint  work  of  Brad 
ford,  Edward  Winslow,  and  others.  It  was  published  in  London,  without 
the  authors'  names,  in  1622,  and  became  known,  on  account  of  a  prefatory 
note  signed  "  G.  Mourt,"  as  "  Mourt's  Relation."  Bradford's  most  important 
writing  is  "The  History  of  Plymouth  Plantation."  The  first  book  treats 
of  the  rise  of  the  dissenters,  and  the  causes  that  influenced  their  emigra 
tion  to  Holland  and  afterward  to  America.  The  part  of  the  work  which 
covers  the  period  after  1620  is  in  the  form  of  annals.  Governor  Bradford 
began  the  History  about  1630,  and  after  bringing  the  narrative  to  date, 
added  an  account  of  the  events  of  each  year  till  1647.  His  object  in  writing 
was  evidently  to  leave  a  record  for  posterity,  and  so  far  as  is  known  he  made 
no  attempt  to  have  the  work  published  in  his  lifetime.  After  his  death  the 
manuscript  passed  to  his  relatives,  and  finally  reached  the  Prince  Library. 
During  the  British  occupation  of  Boston  at  the  time  of  the  Revolution  it 
disappeared,  and  was  supposed  to  be  lost;  but  in  1855  it  was  discovered  in 
the  library  of  the  Bishop  of  London.  In  1897  it  was  returned  by  the  Bishop 
of  London  to  the  Commonwealth  of  Massachusetts.  Many  passages  from 
the  History  had  been  used,  with  and  without  credit,  in  the  works  of  Nathaniel 
Morton,  Thomas  Prince,  Governor  Hutchinson,  and  others;  but  the  work 
as  a  whole  was  first  printed  by  the  Massachusetts  Historical  Society  in  1856. 
A  photographic  facsimile  was  issued  in  London  and  Boston  in  1896,  a  new 
edition  was  prepared  under  the  direction  of  the  Commonwealth  of  Massa- 

27 


28  EARLY  AMERICAN   WRITERS 

chusetts  in  1898,  and  another  edition  appeared  in  1907.  A  portion  of  Gov 
ernor  Bradford's  letter-book  was  published  by  the  Massachusetts  Histori 
cal  Society  in  1794,  and  some  of  his  other  writings  in  prose  and  verse  have 
since  been  printed.  A  number  of  them  are  found  in  Alexander  Young's 
"Chronicles  of  the  Pilgrim  Fathers,"  1841. 

In  some  passages  Governor  Bradford's  writings  show  a  simple  dignity 
and  a  finely  pathetic  quality  obviously  derived  from  the  reading  and  con 
templation  of  the  Bible.  The  greater  part  of  his  work  is  plain  and  accurate, 
but  without  any  graces  of  style.  His  lack  of  a  literary  sense  is  best  shown 
by  the  ludicrous  baldness  of  his  verses,  a  few  of  which  are  given  in  the  fol 
lowing  pages. 

The  text  of  the  selection  from  "Mourt's  Relation"  follows  the  literal 
reprint  by  Henry  Martin  Dexter,  Boston,  1865.  The  text  of  the  passages 
from  "The  History  of  Plymouth  Plantation"  is  based  on  the  edition  pre 
pared  for  the  Commonwealth  of  Massachusetts  by  Alfred  Seelye  Roe  in 
1898,  collated  in  some  doubtful  places  with  the  zincograph  facsimile  of  the 
manuscript,  Boston,  1896.  The  verses  on  New  England  are  from  a  frag 
ment  printed  from  Governor  Bradford's  manuscript  in  the  Massachusetts 
Historical  Society  Collections,  First  Series,  Vol.  Ill,  1794.] 

FIRST  ACQUAINTANCE  WITH  THE  INDIANS 

[From  "Mourt's  Relation"  x] 

Fryday,  the  16.  a  fayre  warme  day  towards;  this  morning  we 
determined  to  conclude  of  the  military  Orders,  which  we  had  began 
to  consider  of  before,  but  were  interrupted  by  the  Savages,  as  we 
mentioned  formerly;  and  whilst  we  were  busied  here  about,  we 
were  interrupted  againe,  for  there  presented  himself  a  Savage, 
which  caused  an  Alarm,  he  very  boldly  came  all  alone  and  along 
the  houses  straight  to  the  Randevous,  where  we  intercepted  him,  not 
suffering  him  to  goe  in,  as  undoubtedly  he  would,  out  of  his  bold- 
nesse,  hee  saluted  us  in  English,  and  bad  us  well-come,  for  he  had 
learned  some  broken  English  amongst  the  English  men  that  came 
to  fish  at  Monchiggon,  and  knew  by  name  the  most  of  theCap- 
taines,  Commanders,  &  Masters  that  usually  come,  he  was  a  man 
free  in  speech,  so  farre  as  he  could  expresse  his  minde,  and  of  a 
seemely  carriage,  we  questioned  him  of  many  things,  he  was  the 
first  Savage  we  could  meete  withall;  he  sayd  he  was  not  of  these 
parts,  but  of  Morattiggon,  and  one  of  the  Sagamores  or  Lords  thereof, 

[l  See  the  introductory  note,  above.  This  part  of  the  journal  is  conjecturally 
ascribed  to  Bradford,  but  the  authorship  cannot  be  definitely  established.] 


WILLIAM  BRADFORD  29 

and  had  beene  8.  moneths  in  these  parts,  it  lying  hence  a  dayes 
sayle  with  a  great  wind,  and  five  dayes  by  land ;  he  discoursed  of 
the  whole  Country,  and  of  every  Province,  and  of  their  Sagamores, 
and  their  number  of  men,  and  strength;  the  wind  beginning  to 
rise  a  little,  we  cast  a  horsemans  coat  about  him,  for  he  was  starke 
naked,  onely  a  leather  about  his  wast,  with  a  fringe  about  a  span 
long,  or  little  more ;  he  had  a  bow  &  2  arrowes,  the  one  headed, 
and  the  other  unheaded;  he  was  a  tall  straight  man,  the  haire  of 
his  head  blacke,  long  behind,  onely  short  before,  none  on  his  face 
at  all;  he  asked  some  beere,  but  we  gave  him  strong  water,  and 
bisket,  and  butter,  and  cheese,  &  pudding,  and  a  peece  of  a  mal- 
lerd,  all  which  he  liked  well,  and  had  bin  acquainted  with  such 
amongst  the  English ;  he  told  us  the  place  where  we  now  live,  is 
called,  Patuxet,  and  that  about  foure  yeares  agoe,  all  the  Inhabit 
ants  dyed  of  an  extraordinary  plague,  and  there  is  neither  man, 
woman,  nor  childe  remaining,  as  indeed  we  have  found  none,  so 
as  there  is  none  to  hinder  our  possession,  or  to  lay  claime  unto  it ; 
all  the  after-noone  we  spent  in  communication  with  him,  we  would 
gladly  have  beene  rid  of  him  at  night,  but  he  was  not  willing  to  goe 
this  night,  then  we  thought  to  carry  him  on  ship-boord,  wherewith 
he  was  well  content,  and  went  into  the  Shallop,  but  the  winde 
was  high  and  water  scant,  that  it  could  not  returne  backe:  we 
lodged  him  that  night  at  Steven  Hopkins  house,  and  watched  him ; 
the  next  day  he  went  away  backe  to  the  Masasoits,  from  whence 
he  sayd  he  came,  who  are  our  next  bordering  neighbours :  they 
are  sixtie  strong,  as  he  sayth:  the  Nausites  are  as  neere  South 
east  of  them,  and  are  a  hundred  strong,  and  those  were  they  of 
whom  our  people  were  encountred,  as  we  before  related.  They 
are  much  incensed  and  provoked  against  the  English,  and  about 
eyght  moneths  agoe  slew  three  English  men,  and  two  more  hardly 
escaped  by  flight  to  Monhiggon;  they  were  Sir  Ferdlnando  Gorge 
his  men,  as  this  Savage  told  us,  as  he  did  likewise  of  the  Hugger  ie, 
that  is,  Fight,  that  our  discoverers  had  with  the  Nausites,  &  of 
our  tooles  that  were  taken  out  of  the  woods,  which  we  willed  him 
should  be  brought  againe,  otherwise,  we  would  right  ourselves. 
These  people  are  ill  affected  towards  the  English,  by  reason  of  one 
Hunt,  a  master  of  a  ship,  who  deceived  the  people,  and  got  them 
under  colour  of  truking  with  them,  twentie  out  of  this  very  place 


30  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

where  we  inhabite,  and  seaven  men  from  the  Nausifes,  and  car 
ried  them  away,  and  sold  them  for  slaves,  like  a  wretched  man 
(for  20.  pound  a  man)  that  cares  not  what  mischiefe  he  doth  for 
his  profit. 

Saturday  in  the  morning  we  dismissed  the  Salvage,  and  gave  him 
a  knife,  a  bracelet,  and  a  ring ;  he  promised  within  a  night  or  two 
to  come  againe,  and  to  bring  with  him  some  of  the  Massasoyts  our 
neighbours,  with  such  Bevers  skins  as  they  had  to  trucke  with  us. 

Saturday  and  Sunday  reasonable  fayre  dayes.  On  this  day 
came  againe  the  Savage,  and  brought  with  him  five  other  tall 
proper  men,  they  had  every  man  a  Deeres  skin  on  him,  and  the 
principall  of  them  had  a  wild  Cats  skin,  or  such  like  on  the  one 
arme;  they  had  most  of  them  long  hosen  up  to  their  groynes, 
close  made;  and  above  their  groynes  to  their  wast  another 
leather,  they  were  altogether  like  the  /m/^-trouses;  they  are  of 
complexion  like  our  English  Gipseys,  no  haire  or  very  little  on  their 
faces,  on  their  heads  long  haire  to  their  shoulders,  onely  cut  be 
fore  some  trussed  up  before  with  a  feather,  broad  wise,  like  a 
fanne,  another  a  fox  tayle  hanging  out:  these  left  (according  to 
our  charge  given  him  before)  their  Bowes  and  Arrowes  a  quarter 
of  a  myle  from  our  Towne,  we  gave  them  entertaynement  as  we 
thought  was  fitting  them,  they  did  eate  liberally  of  our  English 
victuals,  they  made  Semblance  unto  us  of  friendship  and  amitie; 
they  song  &  danced  after  their  maner,  like  Anticks;  they  brought 
with  them  in  a  thing  like  a  Bow-case  (which  the  principall  of  them 
had  about  his  wast)  a  little  of  their  Corne  pownded  to  Powder, 
which  put  to  a  little  water  they  eate ;  he  had  a  little  Tobacco  in  a 
bag,  but  none  of  them  drunke  but  when  he  listed,  some  of  them  had 
their  faces  paynted  black,  from  the  forehead  to  the  chin,  foure  or 
five  fingers  broad ;  others  after  other  fashions,  as  they  liked ;  they 
brought  three  or  foure  skins,  but  we  would  not  trucke  with  them 
at  all  that  day,  but  wished  them  to  bring  more,  and  we  would 
trucke  for  all,  which  they  promised  within  a  night  or  two,  and 
would  leave  these  behind  them,  though  we  were  not  willing  they 
should,  and  they  brought  us  all  our  tooles  againe  which  were  taken 
in  the  woods,  in  our  mens  absence,  so  because  of  the  day  we  dis 
missed  them  so  soone  as  we  could.  But  Samoset  our  first  acquaint 
ance,  eyther  was  sicke,  or  fayned  himselfe  so,  and  would  not  goe 


WILLIAM   BRADFORD 


31 


with  them,  and  stayed  with  us  till  Wednesday  morning  :  Then 
we  sent  him  to  them,  to  know  the  reason  they  came  not  accord 
ing  to  their  words,  and  we  gave  him  an  hat,  a  payre  of  stockings 
and  shooes,  a  shirt,  and  a  peece  of  cloth  to  tie  about  his  wast. 

THE  VOYAGE  OF  THE  MAYFLOWER 

[Chapter  IX,  Book  I,  of  "The  History  of  Plymouth  Plantation"] 

Septr.  6.  These  troubls  being  blowne  over,  and  now  all  being 
compacte  togeather  in  one  shipe,  they  put  to  sea  againe  with  a 
prosperus  winde,  which  continued  diverce  days  togeather,  which 
was  some  incouragmente  unto  them;  yet  according  to  the  usuall 
maner  many  were  afflicted  with  sea-sicknes.  And  I  may  not 
omite  hear  a  spetiall  worke  of  Gods  providence.  Ther  was  a 
proud  &  very  profane  yonge  man,  one  of  the  sea-men,  of  a  lustie, 
able  body,  which  made  him  the  more  hauty ;  he  would  allway  be 
contemning  the  poore  people  in  their  sicknes,  &  cursing  them 
dayly  with  gree[v]ous  execrations,  and  did  not  let  to  tell  them,  that 
he  hoped  to  help  to  cast  halfe  of  them  over  board  before  they  came 
to  their  jurneys  end,  and  to  make  mery  with  what  they  had ;  and 
if  he  were  by  any  gently  reproved,  he  would  curse  and  swear  most 
bitterly.  But  it  plased  God  before  they  came  halfe  seas  over,  to 
smite  this  yong  man  with  a  greeveous  disease,  of  which  he  dyed  in 
a  desperate  maner,  and  so  was  him  selfe  the  first  that  was  throwne 
overbord.  Thus  his  curses  light  on  his  owne  head ;  and  it  was  an 
astonishmente  to  all  his  fellows,  for  they  noted  it  to  be  the  just 
hand  of  God  upon  him. 

After  they  had  injoyed  faire  winds  and  weather  for  a  season, 
they  were  incountred  many  times  with  crosse  winds,  and  mete 
with  many  feirce  stormes,  with  which  the  shipe  was  shroudly 
shaken,  and  her  upper  works  made  very  leakie;  and  one  of  the 
maine  beames  in  the  midd  ships  was  bowed  &  craked,  which  put 
them  in  some  fear  that  the  shipe  could  not  be  able  to  performe 
the  vioage.  So  some  of  the  cheefe  of  the  company,  perceiveing 
the  mariners  to  feare  the  suffisiencie  of  the  shipe,  as  appeared  by 
their  mutterings,  they  entred  into  serious  consultation  with  the 
mr.  &  other  officers  of  the  ship,  to  consider  in  time  of  the  danger ; 


32  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

and  rather  to  returne  then  to  cast  them  selves  into  a  desperate  & 
inevitable  perill.  And  truly  ther  was  great  distraction  &  differ- 
ance  of  opinion  amongst  the  mariners  them  selves;  faine  would 
they  doe  what  could  be  done  for  their  wages  sake,  (being  now 
halfe  the  seas  over,)  and  on  the  other  hand  they  were  loath  to 
hazard  their  lives  too  desperatly.  But  in  examening  of  all  opin 
ions,  the  mr.  &  others  affirmed  they  knew  the  ship  to  be  stronge 
&  firme  under  water;  and  for  the  buckling  of  the  maine  beame, 
ther  was  a  great  iron  scrue  the  passengers  brought  out  of  Holland, 
which  would  raise  the  beame  into  his  place ;  the  which  being  done, 
the  carpenter  &  mr.  affirmed  that  with  a  post  put  under  it,  set 
firme  in  the  lower  deck,  &  otherways  bounde,  he  would  make  it 
sufficiente.  And  as  for  the  decks  &  uper  workes  they  would 
calke  them  as  well  as  they  could,  and  though  with  the  workeing 
of  the  ship  they  would  not  longe  keepe  stanch,  yet  ther  would 
otherwise  be  no  great  danger,  if  they  did  not  overpress  her  with 
sails.  So  they  commited  them  selves  to  the  will  of  God,  &  re 
solved  to  proseede.  In  sundrie  of  these  stormes  the  winds  were 
so  feirce,  &  the  seas  so  high,  as  they  could  not  beare  a  knote  of 
saile,  but  were  forced  to  hull,  for  diverce  days  togither.  And  in 
one  of  them  as  they  thus  lay  at  hull,  in  a  mighty  storme,  a  lustie 
yonge  man  (called  John  Rowland)  coming  upon  some  occasion 
above  the  grattings,  was,  with  a  seele  of  the  shipe  throwne  into  sea; 
but  it  pleased  God  that  he  caught  hould  of  the  top-saile  halliards, 
which  hunge  over  board,  &  rane  out  at  length;  yet  he  held  his 
hould  (though  he  was  sundrie  fadomes  under  water)  till  he  was 
hald  up  by  the  same  rope  to  the  brime  of  the  water,  and  then  with 
a  boat  hooke  &  other  means  got  into  the  shipe  againe,  &  his 
life  saved;  and  though  he  was  something  ill  with  it,  yet  he  lived 
many  years  after,  and  became  a  profitable  member  both  in  church 
&  commone  wealthe.  In  all  this  viage  ther  died  but  one  of  the 
passengers,  which  was  William  Butten,  a  youth,  servant  to  Samuell 
Fuller,  when  they  drew  near  the  coast.  But  to  omite  other  things, 
(that  I  may  be  breefe,)  after  longe  beating  at  sea  they  fell  with 
that  land  which  is  called  Cape  Cod;  the  which  being  made  & 
certainly  knowne  to  be  it,  they  were  not  a  litle  joyfull.  After 
some  deliberation  had  amongst  them  selves  &  with  the  mr.  of 
the  ship,  they  tacked  aboute  and  resolved  to  stande  for  the  south- 


WILLIAM  BRADFORD  33 

ward  (the  wind  &  weather  being  faire)  to  finde  some  place  aboute 
Hudsons  river  for  their  habitation.  But  after  they  had  sailed 
that  course  aboute  halfe  the  day,  they  fell  amongst  deangerous 
shoulds  and  roring  breakers,  and  they  were  so  farr  intangled  ther 
with  as  they  conceived  them  selves  in  great  danger;  &  the  wind 
shrinking  upon  them  withall,  they  resolved  to  bear  up  againe  for  the 
Cape,  and  thought  them  selves  hapy  to  gett  out  of  those  dangers 
before  night  overtooke  them,  as  by  Gods  providence  they  did. 
And  the  next  day  they  gott  into  the  Cape-harbor  wher  they  ridd 
in  saftie.  A  word  or  too  by  the  way  of  this  cape;  it  was  thus  first 
named  by  Capten  Gosnole  &  his  company,1  Anno  1602,  and  after 
by  Capten  Smith  was  caled  Cape  James ;  but  it  retains  the  former 
name  amongst  seamen.  Also  that  pointe  which  first  shewed  those 
dangerous  shoulds  unto  them,  they  called  Pointe  Care,  &  Tuckers 
Terrour;  but  the  French  &  Dutch  to  this  day  call  it  Malabarr, 
by  reason  of  those  perilous  shoulds,  and  the  losses  they  have  suf 
fered  their. 

Being  thus  arived  in  a  good  harbor  and  brought  safe  to  land, 
they  fell  upon  their  knees  &  blessed  the  God  of  heaven,  who  had 
brought  them  over  the  vast  &  furious  ocean,  and  delivered  them 
from  all  the  periles  &  miseries  therof,  againe  to  set  their  feete 
on  the  firme  and  stable  earth,  their  proper  elemente.  And  no 
marvell  if  they  were  thus  joyefull,  seeing  wise  Seneca  was  so 
affected  with  sailing  a  few  miles  on  the  coast  of  his  owne  Italy; 
as  he  affirmed 2  that  he  had  rather  remaine  twentie  years  on  his 
way  by  land,  then  pass  by  sea  to  any  place  in  a  short  time;  so 
tedious  &  dreadfull  was  the  same  unto  him. 

But  hear  I  cannot  but  stay  and  make  a  pause,  and  stand  half 
amased  at  this  poore  peoples  presente  condition;  and  so  I  thinke 
will  the  reader  too,  when  he  well  considers  the  same.  Being  thus 
passed  the  vast  ocean,  and  a  sea  of  troubles  before  in  their  prepara 
tion  (as  may  be  remembred  by  that  which  wente  before),  they  had 
now  no  freinds  to  wellcome  them,  nor  inns  to  entertaine  or  refresh 
their  weatherbeaten  bodys,  no  houses  or  much  less  townes  to  re- 
paire  too,  to  seeke  for  succoure.  It  is  recorded  in  scripture3 
as  a  mercie  to  the  apostle  &  his  shipwraked  company,  that  the 
barbarians  shewed  them  no  smale  kindnes  in  refreshing  them,  but 

1  Because  they  tooke  much  of  that  fishe  ther.      2  Epist.  iii.      8  Acts  xxviii. 
D 


34  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

these  savage  barbarians,  when  they  mette  with  them  (as  after  will 
appeare)  were  readier  to  fill  their  sids  full  of  arrows  then  otherwise. 
And  for  the  season  it  was  winter,  and  they  that  know  the  winters 
of  that  cuntrie  know  them  to  be  sharp  &  violent,  &  subjecte  to 
cruell  &  feirce  stormes,  deangerous  to  travill  to  known  places, 
much  more  to  serch  an  unknown  coast.  Besids,  what  could  they 
see  but  a  hidious  &  desolate  wildernes,  full  of  wild  beasts  &  willd 
men?  and  what  multituds  ther  might  be  of  them  they  knew  not. 
Nether  could  they,  as  it  were,  goe  up  to  the  tope  of  Pisgah,  to  vew 
from  this  willdernes  a  more  goodly  cuntrie  to  feed  their  hops; 
for  which  way  soever  they  turnd  their  eys  (save  upward  to  the 
heavens)  they  could  have  litle  solace  or  content  in  respecte  of 
any  outward  objects.  For  summer  being  done,  all  things  stand 
upon  them  with  a  wetherbeaten  face ;  and  the  whole  countrie,  full 
of  woods  &  thickets,  represented  a  wild  &  savage  heiw.  If  they 
looked  behind  them,  ther  was  the  mighty  ocean  which  they  had 
passed,  and  was  now  as  a  maine  barr  &  goulfe  to  seperate  them 
from  all  the  civill  parts  of  the  world.  If  it  be  said  they  had  a  ship 
to  succour  them,  it  is  trew;  but  what  heard  they  daly  from  the-mr. 
&  company  ?  but  that  with  speede  they  should  looke  out  a  place 
with  their  shallop,  wher  they  would  be  at  some  near  distance ;  for 
the  season  was  shuch  as  he  would  not  stirr  from  thence  till  a  safe 
harbor  was  discovered  by  them  wher  they  would  be,  and  he  might 
goe  without  danger;  and  that  victells  consumed  apace,  but  he 
must  &  would  keepe  sufficient  for  them  selves  &  their  returne. 
Yea,  it  was  muttered  by  some,  that  if  they  gott  not  a  place  in  time, 
they  would  turne  them  &  their  goods  ashore  &  leave  them.  Let 
it  also  be  considred  what  weake  hopes  of  supply  &  succoure 
they  left  behinde  them,  that  might  bear  up  their  minds  in  this  sade 
condition  and  trialls  they  were  under;  and  they  could  not  but  be 
very  smale.  It  is  true,  indeed,  the  affections  &  love  of  their  breth 
ren  at  Ley  den  was  cordiall  &  entire  towards  them,  but  they  had 
litle  power  to  help  them,  or  them  selves;  and  how  the  case  stode 
betweene  them  &  the  marchants  at  their  coming  away,  hath  all- 
ready  been  declared.  What  could  now  sustaine  them  but  the 
spirite  of  God  &  his  grace  ?  May  not  &  ought  not  the  children 
of  these  fathers  rightly  say :  Our  faithers  were  Englishmen  which 
came  over  this  great  ocean,  and  were  ready  to  perish  in  this  willder- 


WILLIAM   BRADFORD  35 

nes;1  but  they  cried  unto  the  Lord,  and  he  heard  their  voyce,  and 
looked  on  their  adversitie,  &c.  Let  them  therfore  praise  the  Lord, 
because  he  is  good,  &  his  mercies  endure  for  ever.2  Yea,  let  them 
which  have  been  redeemed  of  the  Lord,  shew  how  he  hath  delivered 
them  from  the  hand  of  the  oppressour.  When  they  wandered  in 
the  deserte  willdernes  out  of  the  way,  and  found  no  citie  to  dwell  in, 
both  hungrie,  &  thirstie,  their  sowle  was  overwhelmed  in  them. 
Let  them  confess  before  the  Lord  his  loving  kindnes,  and  his  wonder- 
full  works  before  the  sons  of  men. 

THE  SETTLEMENT  AT  MERRY  MOUNT 
[From  "The  History  of  Plymouth  Plantation"  for  1628] 

Aboute  some  3.  or  4.  years  before  this  time,  ther  came  over  one 
Captaine  Wolastone,  (a  man  of  pretie  parts,)  and  with  him  3.  or 
4.  more  of  some  eminencie,  who  brought  with  them  a  great  many 
servants,  with  provissions  &  other  implments  for  to  begine  a 
plantation ;  and  pitched  them  selves  in  a  place  within  the  Massa- 
chusets,  which  they  called,  after  their  Captains  name,  Mount- 
Wollaston.  Amongst  whom  was  one  Mr.  Morton,  who,  it  should 
seeme,  had  some  small  adventure  (of  his  owne  or  other  mens) 
amongst  them;  but  had  litle  respecte  amongst  them,  and  was 
sleghted  by  the  meanest  servants.  Haveing  continued  ther  some 
time,  and  not  finding  things  to  answer  their  expectations,  nor 
profite  to  arise  as  they  looked  for,  Captaine  Wollaston  takes  a  great 
part  of  the  sarvents,  and  transports  them  to  Virginia,  wher  he 
puts  them  of  at  good  rates,  selling  their  time  to  other  men;  and 
writs  back  to  one  Mr.  Rassdall,  one  of  his  cheefe  partners,  and 
accounted  their  marchant,  to  bring  another  parte  of  them  to  Ver- 
ginia  likewise,  intending  to  put  them  of  there  as  he  had  done  the 
rest.  And  he,  with  the  consente  of  the  said  Rasdall,  appoynted 
one  Fitcher  to  be  his  Livetenante,  and  governe  the  remaines  of  the 
plantation,  till  he  or  Rasdall  returned  to  take  further  order  ther- 
aboute.  But  this  Morton  abovesaid,  haveing  more  craft  than 
honestie,  (who  had  been  a  kind  of  petiefogger,  of  Furnefells  Inne,) 
in  the  others  absence,  watches  an  oppertunitie,  (commons  being 

1  Deut.  26.  5,  7.  *  107  Ps.  v.  i,  2,  4,  5,  8. 


36  EARLY  AMERICAN   WRITERS 

but  hard  amongst  them,)  and  gott  some  strong  drinck  and  other 
junkats,  &  made  them  a  feast;  and  after  they  were  merie,  he  be- 
gane  to  tell  them,  he  would  give  them  good  counsell.  You  see 
(saith  he)  that  many  of  your  fellows  are  carried  to  Virginia ;  and 
if  you  stay  till  this  Rasdall  returne,  you  will  also  be  carried  away 
and  sould  for  slaves  with  the  rest.  Therfore  I  would  advise  you 
to  thrust  out  this  Levetenant  Fitcher ;  and  I,  having  a  parte  in  the 
plantation,  will  receive  you  as  my  partners  and  consociats;  so 
may  you  be  free  from  service,  and  we  will  converse,  trad,  plante,  & 
live  togeather  as  equalls,  &  supporte  &  protecte  one  another,  or  to 
like  effecte.  This  counsell  was  easily  received;  so  they  tooke 
oppertunitie,  and  thrust  Levetenante  Fitcher  out  a  dores,  and  would 
suffer  him  to  come  no  more  amongst  them,  but  forct  him  to  seeke 
bread  to  eate,  and  other  releefe  from  his  neigbours,  till  he  could 
gett  passages  for  England.  After  this  they  fell  to  great  licencious- 
ness,  and  led  a  dissolute  life,  powering  out  them  selves  into  all  pro- 
fanenes.  And  Morton  became  lord  of  misrule,  and  maintained 
(as  it  were)  a  schoole  of  Athisme.  And  after  they  had  gott  some 
good  into  their  hands,  and  gott  much  by  trading  with  the  Indeans, 
they  spent  it  as  vainly,  in  quaffing  &  drinking  both  wine  &  strong 
waters  in  great  exsess,  and,  as  some  reported  io£.  worth  in  a  morn 
ing.  They  allso  set  up  a  May-pole,  drinking  and  dancing  aboute 
it  many  days  togeather,  inviting  thelndean  women,  for  their  con 
sorts,  dancing  and  frisking  togither,  (like  so  many  fairies,  or  furies 
rather,)  and  worse  practises.  As  if  they  had  anew  revived  & 
celebrated  the  feasts  of  the  Roman  Goddes  Flora,  or  the  beasly 
practieses  of  the  madd  Bacchinalians.  Morton  likwise  (to  shew 
his  poetrie)  composed  sundry  rimes  &  verses,  some  tending  to 
lasciviousnes,  and  others  to  the  detraction  &  scandall  of  some 
persons,  which  he  affixed  to  this  idle  or  idoll  May-polle.  They 
chainged  allso  the  name  of  their  place,  and  in  stead  of  calling  it 
Mounte  Wollaston,  they  call  it  Merie-mounte,  as  if  this  joylity 
would  have  lasted  ever.  But  this  continued  not  long,  for  after 
Morton  was  sent  for  England,  (as  follows  to  be  declared,)  shortly 
after  came  over  that  worthy  gentlman,  Mr.  John  Indecott,  who 
brought  over  a  patent  under  the  broad  seall,  for  the  governmente 
of  the  Massachusets,  who  visiting  those  parts  caused  that  May- 
polle  to  be  cutt  downe,  and  rebuked  them  for  their  profannes,  and 


WILLIAM  BRADFORD  37 

admonished  them  to  looke  ther  should  be  better  walking ;  so  they 
now,  or  others,  changed  the  name  of  their  place  againe,  and  called 
it  Mounte-Dagon. 

Now  to  maintaine  this  riotous  prodigallitie  and  profuse  excess, 
Morton,  thinking  him  selfe  lawless,  and  hearing  what  gaine  the 
French  &  fisher-men  made  by  trading  of  peeces,  powder,  &  shotte 
to  the  Indeans,  he,  as  the  head  of  this  consortship,  begane  the 
practise  of  the  same  in  these  parts ;  and  first  he  taught  them  how 
to  use  them,  to  charge,  &  discharg,  and  what  proportion  of  powder 
to  give  the  peece,  according  to  the  sise  or  bignes  of  the  same; 
and  what  shotte  to  use  for  foule,  and  what  for  deare.  And  having 
thus  instructed  them,  he  imployed  some  of  them  to  hunte  &  fowle 
for  him,  so  as  they  became  fair  more  active  in  that  imploymente 
then  any  of  the  English,  by  reason  of  ther  swiftnes  of  foote,  & 
nimblnes  of  body,  being  also  quick-sighted,  and  by  continuall  ex 
ercise  well  knowing  the  hants  of  all  sorts  of  game.  So  as  when 
they  saw  the  execution  that  a  peece  would  doe,  and  the  bene- 
fite  that  might  come  by  the  same,  they  became  madd,  as  it  were, 
after  them,  and  would  not  stick  to  give  any  prise  they  could  attaine 
too  for  them;  accounting  their  bowes  &  arrowes  but  babies  in 
comparison  of  them. 

And  here  I  may  take  occasion'  to  bewaile  the  mischefe  that 
this  wicked  man  began  in  these  parts,  and  which  since  base 
covetousnes  prevailing  in  men  that  should  know  better,  has  now 
at  length  gott  the  upper  hand,  and  made  this  thing  commone, 
notwithstanding  any  laws  to  the  contrary;  so  as  the  Indeans  are 
full  of  peeces  all  over,  both  fouling  peeces,  muskets,  pistols,  &c. 
They  have  also  their  moulds  to  make  shotte,  of  all  sorts,  as  muskett 
bulletts,  pistoll  bullets,  swane  &  gose  shote,  &  of  smaler  sorts; 
yea,  some  have  seen  them  have  their  scruplats  to  make  scrupins 
them  selves,  when  they  wante  them,  with  sundery  other  imple 
ments,  wherwith  they  are  ordinarily  better  fited  &  furnished 
then  the  English  them  selves.  Yea,  it  is  well  knowne  that  they 
will  have  powder  &  shot,  when  the  English  want  it,  nor  cannot 
gett  it ;  and  that  in  time  of  warre  or  danger,  as  experience  hath 
manifested,  that  when  lead  hath  been  scarce,  and  men  for  their 
owne  defence  would  gladly  have  given  a  groat  a  ti,  which  is  dear 
enoughe,  yet  hath  it  bene  bought  up  &  sent  to  other  places,  and 


38  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

sould  to  shuch  as  trade  it  with  the  Indeans,  at  12.  pence  theli. ; 
and  it  is  like  they  give  3.  or  4.  s.  the  pound,  for  they  will  have  it 
at  any  rate.  And  these  things  have  been  done  in  the  same  times, 
when  some  of  their  neighbours  &  freinds  are  daly  killed  by  the 
Indeans,  or  are  in  deanger  therof,  and  live  but  at  the  Indeans 
mercie.  Yea,  some  (as  they  have  aquainted  them  with  all  other 
things)  have  tould  them  how  gunpowder  is  made,  and  all  the 
materialls  in  it,  and  that  they  are  to  be  had  in  their  owne  land; 
and  I  am  confidente,  could  they  attaine  to  make  saltpeter,  they 
would  teach  them  to  make  powder.  O,  the  horiblnes  of  this 
vilanie !  how  many  both  Dutch  &  English  have  been  latly  slaine 
by  those  Indeans,  thus  furnished;  and  no  remedie  provided,  nay, 
the  evill  more  increased,  and  the  blood  of  their  brethren  sould 
for  gaine,  as  is  to  be  feared;  and  in  what  danger  all  these  colo 
nies  are  in  is  too  well  known.  Oh !  that  princes  &  parlements 
would  take  some  timly  order  to  prevente  this  mischeefe,  and  at 
length  to  suppress  it,  by  some  exemplerie  punishmente  upon 
some  of  these  gaine  thirstie  murderers,  (for  they  deserve  no  better 
title,)  before  their  collonies  in  these  parts  be  over  throwne  by 
these  barbarous  savages,  thus  armed  with  their  owne  weapons, 
by  these  evill  instruments,  and  traytors  to  their  neighbors  and 
cuntrie.  But  I  have  forgott  my  selfe,  and  have  been  to  longe 
in  this  digression;  but  now  to  returne.  This  Morton  having 
thus  taught  them  the  use  of  peeces,  he  sould  them  all  he  could 
spare;  and  he  and  his  consorts  detirmined  to  send  for  many 
out  of  England,  and  had  by  some  of  the  ships  sente  for  above  a 
score.  The  which  being  knowne,  and  his  neighbours  meeting 
the  Indeans  in  the  woods  armed  with  guns  in  this  sorte,  it  was  a 
terrour  unto  them,  who  lived  straglingly,  and  were  of  no  strenght 
in  any  place.  And  other  places  (though  more  remote)  saw  this 
mischeefe  would  quietly  spread  over  all  if  not  prevented.  Besides, 
they  saw  they  should  keep  no  servants,  for  Morton  would  enter- 
taine  any,  how  vile  soever,  and  all  the  scume  of  the  countrie,  or 
any  discontents,  would  flock  to  him  from  all  places,  if  this  nest 
was  not  broken;  and  they  should  stand  in  more  fear  of  their 
lives  &  goods  (in  short  time)  from  this  wicked  &  deboste  crue, 
then  from  the  salvages  them  selves. 

So  sundrie  of  the  cheefe  of  the  stragling  plantations,  meeting 


WILLIAM   BRADFORD  39 

togither,  agreed  by  mutuall  consente  to  sollissite  those  of  Plimoth 
(who  were  then  of  more  strength  then  them  all)  to  joyne  with 
them,  to  prevente  the  further  grouth  of  this  mischeefe,  and  sup 
press  Morton  &  his  consortes  before  they  grewe  to  further  head 
and  strength.  Those  that  joyned  in  this  acction  (and  after  con 
tributed  to  the  charge  of  sending  him  for  England)  were  from 
Pascataway,  Namkeake,  Winisimett,  Weesagascusett,  Natasco, 
and  other  places  wher  any  English  were  seated.  Those  of  Pli 
moth  being  thus  sought  too  by  their  messengers  &  letters,  and 
waying  both  their  reasons,  and  the  commone  danger,  were  willing 
to  afford  them  their  help ;  though  them  selves  had  least  cause  of 
fear  or  hurte.  So,  to  be  short,  they  first  resolved  joyntly  to 
write  to  him,  and  in  a  freindly  &  neigborly  way  to  admonish 
him  to  forbear  these  courses,  &  sent  a  messenger  with  their 
letters  to  bring  his  answer.  But  he  was  so  highe  as  he  scorned 
all  advise,  and  asked  who  had  to  doe  with  him;  he  had  and 
would  trade  peeces  with  the  Indeans  in  dispite  of  all,  with  many 
other  scurilous  termes  full  of  disdaine.  They  sente  to  him  a 
second  time,  and  bad  him  be  better  advised,  and  more  temperate 
in  his  termes,  for  the  countrie  could  not  beare  the  injure  he  did; 
it  was  against  their  comone  saftie,  and  against  the  king's  procla 
mation.  He  answerd  in  high  terms  as  before,  and  that  the 
kings  proclaimation  was  no  law;  demanding  what  penaltie  was 
upon  it.  It  was  answered,  more  then  he  could  bear,  his  majes 
ties  displeasure.  But  insolently  he  persisted,  and  said  the  king 
was  dead  and  his  displeasure  with  him,  &  many  the  like  things; 
and  threatened  withall  that  if  any  came  to  molest  him,  let  them 
looke  to  them  selves,  for  he  would  prepare  for  them.  Upon 
which  they  sawr  ther  was  no  way  but  to  take  him  by  force;  and 
having  so  farr  proceeded,  now  to  give  over  would  make  him  farr 
more  hautie  &  insolente.  So  they  mutually  resolved  to  pro 
ceed,  and  obtained  of  the  Govr.  of  Plimoth  to  send  Captaine 
Standish,  &  some  other  aide  with  him,  to  take  Morton  by  force. 
The  which  accordingly  was  done;  but  they  found  him  to  stand 
stifly  in  his  defence,  having  made  fast  his  dors,  armed  his  con 
sorts,  set  diverse  dishes  of  powder  &  bullets  ready  on  the  table ; 
and  if  they  had  not  been  over  armed  with  drinke,  more  hurt 
might  have  been  done.  They  sommaned  him  to  yeeld,  but  he 


40  EARLY  AMERICAN   WRITERS 

kept  his  house,  and  they  could  gett  nothing  but  scofes  &  scorns 
from  him;  but  at  length,  fearing  they  would  doe  some  violence 
to  the  house,  he  and  some  of  his  crue  came  out,  but  not  to  yeeld, 
but  to  shoote ;  but  they  were  so  steeld  with  drinke  as  their  peeces 
were  to  heavie  for  them;  him  selfe  with  a  carbine  (over  charged  & 
allmost  halfe  fild  with  powder  &  shote,  as  was  after  found)  had 
thought  to  have  shot  Captaine  Standish ;  but  he  stept  to  him,  & 
put  by  his  peece,  &  tooke  him.  Neither  was  ther  any  hurte 
done  to  any  of  either  side,  save  that  one  was  so  drunke  that  he 
rane  his  owne  nose  upon  the  pointe  of  a  sword  that  one  held 
before  him  as  he  entred  the  house;  but  he  lost  but  a  litle  of  his 
hott  blood.  Morton  they  brought  away  to  Plimoth,  wher  he  was 
kepte,  till  a  ship  went  from  the  He  of  Shols  for  England,  with 
which  he  was  sente  to  the  Counsell  of  New-England ;  and  letters 
writen  to  give  them  information  of  his  course  &  cariage;  and 
also  one  was  sent  at  their  commone  charge  to  informe  their  Honours 
more  perticulerly,  &  to  prosecute  against  him.  But  he  foold  of 
the  messenger,  after  he  was  gone  from  hence,  and  though  he 
wente  for  England,  yet  nothing  was  done  to  him,  not  so  much 
as  rebukte,  for  ought  was  heard;  but  returned  the  nexte  year. 
Some  of  the  worst  of  the  company  were  disperst,  and  some  of  the 
more  modest  kepte  the  house  till  he  should  be  heard  from.  But 
I  have  been  too  long  aboute  so  unworthy  a  person,  and  bad  a 
cause. 

THE  DESTRUCTION  OF  THE  PEQUODS 

[From  "The  History  of  Plymouth  Plantation"  for  1637] 

I  shall  not  take  upon  me  exactly  to  describe  their  proceedings 
in  these  things,  because  I  expecte  it  will  be  fully  done  by  them 
selves,  who  best  know  the  carrage  &  circumstances  of  things;  I 
shall  therfore  but  touch  them  in  generall.  From  Connightecute 
(who  were  most  sencible  of  the  hurt  sustained,  &  the  present 
danger),  they  sett  out  a  partie  of  men,  and  an  other  partie  mett 
them  from  the  Bay,  at  the  Narigansets,  who  were  to  joyne  with 
them.  The  Narigansets  were  ernest  to  be  gone  before  the  Eng- 
1  lish  were  well  rested  and  refreshte,  espetially  some  of  them  which 
came  last.  It  should  seeme  their  desire  was  to  come  upon  the 


WILLIAM  BRADFORD  41 

enemie  sudenly,  &  undiscovered.  Ther  was  a  barke  of  this 
place,  newly  put  in  ther,  which  was  come  from  Conightecutte, 
who  did  incourage  them  to  lay  hold  of  the  Indeans  forwardnes, 
and  to  shew  as  great  forwardnes  as  they,  for  it  would  incorage 
them,  and  expedition  might  prove  to  their  great  advantage.  So 
they  went  on,  and  so  ordered  their  march,  as  the  Indeans  brought 
them  to  a  forte  of  the  enimies  (in  which  most  of  their  cheefe  men 
were)  before  day.  They  approached  the  same  with  great  silence, 
and  surrounded  it  both  with  English  &  Indeans,  that  they  might 
not  breake  out;  and  so  assualted  them  with  great  courage,  shoot 
ing  amongst  them,  and  entered  the  forte  with  all  speed;  and 
those  that  first  entered  found  sharp  resistance  from  the  enimie, 
who  both  shott  at  &  grapled  with  them;  others  rane  into  their 
howses,  &  brought  out  fire,  and  sett  them  on  fire,  which  soone 
tooke  in  their  matts,  &,  standing  close  togeather,  with  the  wind, 
all  was  quickly  on  a  flame,  and  therby  more  were  burnte  to  death 
then  was  otherwise  slaine;  it  burnte  their  bowstrings,  and  made 
them  unservisable.  Those  that  scaped  the  fire  were  slaine  writh 
the  sword;  some  hewed  to  peeces,  others  rune  throw  with  their 
rapiers,  so  as  they  were  quickly  dispatchte,  and  very  few  escaped. 
It  was  conceived  they  thus  destroyed  about  400.  at  this  time.  It 
was  a  fearfull  sight  to  see  them  thus  frying  in  the  fyer,  and  the 
streams  of  blood  quenching  the  same,  and  horrible  was  the  stinck 
&  sente  ther  of;  but  the  victory  seemed  a  sweete  sacrifice,  and 
they  gave  the  prays  therof  to  God,  who  had  wrought  so  wonderfuly 
for  them,  thus  to  inclose  their  enimise  in  their  hands,  and  give 
them  so  speedy  a  victory  over  so  proud  &  insulting  an  enimie. 

SOME  VERSES   ON  NEW  ENGLAND 

[Printed,  from  a  manuscript  of  Governor  Bradford,  in  the  "Collections  of  the 
Massachusetts  Historical  Society,"  First  series,  Vol.  II,   1794 l] 

Almost  ten  years  we  lived  here  alone, 
In  other  places  there  were  few  or  none ; 
For  Salem  was  the  next  of  any  fame, 
That  began  to  augment  New  England's  name; 

t1  The  spelling,  etc.,  were  of  course  modernized  by  the  editor.    No  exact  reprint 
is  available.] 


42  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

But  after  multitudes  began  to  flow, 

More  than  well  knew  themselves  where  to  bestow; 

Boston  then  began  her  roots  to  spread, 

And  quickly  soon  she  grew  to  be  the  head, 

Not  only  of  the  Massachusetts  Bay, 

But  all  trade  and  commerce  fell  in  her  way. 

And  truly  it  was  admirable  to  know, 

How  greatly  all  things  here  began  to  grow. 

New  plantations  were  in  each  place  begun 

And  with  inhabitants  were  filled  soon. 

All  sorts  of  grain  which  our  own  land  doth  yield, 

Was  hither  brought,  and  sown  in  every  field : 

As  wheat  and  rye,  barley,  oats,  beans,  and  pease 

Here  all  thrive,  and  they  profit  from  them  raise, 

All  sorts  of  roots  and  herbs  in  gardens  grow, 

Parsnips,  carrots,  turnips,  or  what  you'll  sow, 

Onions,  melons,  cucumbers,  radishes, 

Skirets,  beets,  coleworts,  and  fair  cabbages. 

Here  grows  fine  flowers  many,  and  'mongst  those, 

The  fair  white  lily  and  sweet  fragrant  rose. 

Many  good  wholesome  berries  here  you'll  find, 

Fit  for  man's  use,  almost  of  every  kind, 

Pears,  apples,  cherries,  plumbs,  quinces,  and  peach, 

Are  now  no  dainties;  you  may  have  of  each. 

Nuts  and  grapes  of  several  sorts  are  here, 

If  you  will  take  the  pains  them  to  seek  for. 

Cattle  of  every  kind  do  fill  the  land; 
Many  now  are  kill'd,  and  their  hides  tann'd: 
By  which  men  are  supply'd  with  meat  and  shoes, 
Or  what  they  can,  though  much  by  wolves  they  lose. 
Here  store  of  cows,  which  milk  and  butter  yield, 
And  also  oxen,  for  to  till  the  field; 
Of  which  great  profit  many  now  do  make, 
If  they  have  a  fit  place  and  able  pains  do  take. 
Horses  here  likewise  now  do  multiply, 
They  prosper  well,  and  yet  their  price  is  high. 
Here  are  swine,  good  store,  and  some  goats  do  keep, 


WILLIAM   BRADFORD 

But  now  most  begin  to  get  store  of  sheep, 

That  with  their  wool  their  bodies  may  be  clad, 

In  time  of  straits,  when  things  cannot  be  had; 

For  merchants  keep  the  price  of  cloth  so  high, 

As  many  are  not  able  the  same  to  buy. 

And  happy  would  it  be  for  people  here, 

If  they  could  raise  cloth  for  themselves  to  wear. 


43 


JOHN   WINTHROP 

[John  Winthrop  was  a  man  of  better  family  and  wider  experience  in  the 
world  than  most  of  the  Puritan  laymen  in  early  New  England.  He  was 
born  in  Suffolk  in  1588,  and  spent  two  years  at  Trinity  College,  Cambridge. 
His  religious  experiences  inclined  him  at  one  time  to  become  a  minister,  but 
he  finally  devoted  himself  to  the  law.  By  1630,  when  he  came  to  America 
as  the  leader  of  the  new  colony  of  the  Massachusetts  Company,  he  was 
forty-two  years  of  age,  had  been  three  times  married,  had  attained  some 
distinction  in  his  profession,  and  was  looked  on  as  a  man  of  weight  and 
substance.  For  the  greater  part  of  the  time  until  his  death  in  1649  he  was 
either  governor  or  deputy  governor  of  the  colony. 

Few  of  Governor  Winthrop's  writings  were  printed  in  his  lifetime.  "A 
Short  Story  of  the  Rise,  reign  and  ruine  of  the  Antinomians,  Familists  & 
Libertines  that  infected  the  Churches  of  New  England,"  a  somewhat  viru 
lent  tract  published  in  London  in  1644,  has  been  ascribed  to  him.  His 
longest  and  most  important  work  was  a  journal,  which  has  come  to  be 
commonly  known  by  the  too  inclusive  title  of  "The  History  of  New  Eng 
land."  The  first  part  of  this  was  edited  by  Noah  Webster  and  printed  in 
1790;  and  the  whole,  edited  by  James  Savage,  was  published  in  1825,  and 
again  in  1853.  Both  these  versions  modernize  the  spelling,  etc.;  and  no 
literal  reprint  of  Winthrop's  manuscript  has  been  made.  The  latest  edition, 
by  J.  K.  Hosmer,  1908,  follows  Savage's  text.  As  in  most  diaries  kept  by 
busy  men,  the  scale  of  treatment  in  "The  History  of  New  England"  is  not 
proportioned  to  the  importance  of  the  events;  and  there  are  many  blanks 
which  the  author  evidently  intended  to  fill  up  in  a  leisure  that  never  came. 
The  journal  is,  however,  one  of  the  most  valuable  and  readable  of  the  docu 
ments  from  which  we  gain  a  picture  of  early  New  England  life,  and  not  a 
little  of  its  value  comes  from  the  fact  that  it  gives  so  frank  and  delightful  a 
revelation  of  the  governor  himself.  "AModell  of  Christian  Charity,"  a 
homily  written  on  the  voyage  to  America,  and  other  of  Winthrop's  papers 
have  been  published  in  the  collections  of  the  Massachusetts  Historical  Society. 

The  selections  from  "The  History  of  New  England"  are  from  Savage's 
second  edition.  The  selection  from  Winthrop's  "Christian  Experience," 
and  the  letters  to  his  third  wife,  Margaret,  are  from  the  "Life  and  Letters  of 
John  Winthrop,"  by  Robert  C.  Winthrop.] 

A  HALF  YEAR   IN  MASSACHUSETTS  BAY 

[From  "The  History  of  New  England"  for  1630] 

Thursday,  July  i.]  The  Mayflower  and  the  Whale  arrived 
safe  in  Charlton  harbour.  Their  passengers  were  all  in  health, 

44 


JOHN  WINTHROP  45 

but  most  of  their  cattle  dead,  (whereof  a  mare  and  horse  of  mine). 
Some  stone  horses  came  over  in  good  plight. 

Friday,  2.]  The  Talbot  arrived  there.  She  had  lost  fourteen 
passengers. 

My  son,  Henry  Winthrop,  was  drowned  at  Salem. 

Saturday,  3.]   The  Hope  well,  and  William  and  Francis  arrived. 

Monday,  5.]  The  Trial  arrived  at  Charlton,  and  the  Charles 
at  Salem. 

Tuesday,  6.]  The  Success  arrived.     She  had goats  and 

lost  of    them,    and    many   of  her  passengers  were   near 

starved,  etc. 

Wednesday,  7.]   The  Lion  went  back  to  Salem. 

Thursday,  8.]  We  kept  a  day  of  thanksgiving  in  all  the  planta 
tions. 

Thursday,  August  18.]   Capt.  Endecott  and Gibson  were 

married  by  the  governour  and  Mr.  Wilson. 

Saturday,  20.]  The  French  ship  called  the  Gift,  came  into  the 
harbour  at  Charlton.  She  had  been  twelve  weeks  at  sea,  and 
lost  one  passenger  and  twelve  goats;  she  delivered  six. 

Monday  we  kept  a  court. 

»  Friday,  27.]  We,  of  the  congregation,  kept  a  fast,  and  chose 
Mr.  Wilson  our  teacher,  and  Mr.  Nowell  an  elder,  and  Mr. 
Gager  and  Mr.  Aspinwall,  deacons.  \Ve  used  imposition  of 
hands,  but  with  this  protestation  by  all,  that  it  was  only  as  a 
sign  of  election  and  confirmation,  not  of  any  intent  that  Mr. 
Wilson  should  renounce  his  ministry  he  received  in  England. 

September  20.]   Mr.  Gager  died. 

30.]  About  two  in  the  morning,  Mr.  Isaac  Johnson  died;  his 
wife,  the  lady  Arbella,  of  the  house  of  Lincoln,  being  dead  about 
one  month  before.  He  was  a  holy  man,  and  wise,  and  died  in 
sweet  peace,  leaving  some  part  of  his  substance  to  the  colony. 

The  wolves  killed  six  calves  at  Salem,  and  they  killed  one  wolf. 

Thomas  Morton  adjudged  to  be  imprisoned,  till  he  were  sent 
into  England,  and  his  house  burnt  down,  for  his  many  injuries 
offered  to  the  Indians,  and  other  misdemeanours.  Capt.  Brook, 
master  of  the  Gift,  refused  to  carry  him. 

Finch,  of  Watertown,  had  his  wigwam  burnt  and  all  his  goods. 

Billington  executed  at  Plimouth  for  murdering  one. 


46  EARLY  AMERICAN   WRITERS 

Mr.  Phillips,  the  minister  of  Watertown,  and  others,  had  their 
hay  burnt. 

The  wolves  killed  some  swine  at  Saugus. 

A  cow  died  at  Plimouth,  and  a  goat  at  Boston,  with  eating 
Indian  corn. 

October  23.]   Mr.  Rossiter,  one  of  the  assistants,  died. 

25.]  Mr.  Colburn  (who  was  chosen  deacon  by  the  congrega 
tion  a  week  before)  was  invested  by  imposition  of  hands  of  the 
minister  and  elder. 

The  governour,  upon  consideration  of  the  inconveniences 
which  had  grown  in  England  by  drinking  one  to  another,  re 
strained  it  at  his  own  table,  and  wished  others  to  do  the  like,  so 
as  it  grew,  by  little  and  little,  to  disuse. 

29.]  The  Handmaid  arrived  at  Plimouth,  having  been  twelve 
weeks  at  sea,  and  spent  all  her  masts,  and  of  twenty-eight  cows 
she  lost  ten.  She  had  about  sixty  passengers,  who  came  all  well; 
John  Grant,  master. 

Mr.  Goffe  wrote  to  me,  that  his  shipping  this  year  had  utterly 
undone  him. 

She  brought  out  twenty-eight  heifers,  but  brought  but  seventeen 
alive. 

November  u.]  The  master  came  to  Boston  with  Capt.  Standish 
and  two  gentlemen  passengers,  who  came  to  plant  here,  but  having 
no  testimony,  we  would  not  receive  them. 

10.]   Firmin,  of  Watertown,  had  his  wigwam  burnt. 

Divers  had  their  hay-stacks  burnt  by  burning  the  grass. 

27.]  Three  of  the  governour 's  servants  were  from  this  day  to 
the  i  of  December  abroad  in  his  skiff  among  the  islands,  in  bitter 
frost  and  snow,  being  kept  from  home  by  the  N.  W.  wind,  and 
without  victuals.  At  length  they  gat  to  Mount  Wollaston,  and 
left  their  boat  there,  and  came  home  by  land.  Laus  Deo. 

December  6.]  The  governour  and  most  of  the  assistants,  and 
others,  met  at  Roxbury,  and  there  agreed  to  build  a  town  fortified 
upon  the  neck  between  that  and  Boston,  and  a  committee  was 
appointed  to  consider  of  all  things  requisite,  etc. 

14.]  The  committee  met  at  Roxbury,  and  upon  further  con 
sideration,  for  reasons,  it  was  concluded,  that  we  could  not  have 
a  town  in  the  place  aforesaid:  i.  Because  men  would  be  forced 


JOHN   WINTHROP  47 

to  keep  two  families.  2.  There  was  no  running  water;  and  if 
there  were  any  springs,  they  would  not  suffice  the  town.  3.  The 
most  part  of  the  people  had  built  already,  and  would  not  be 
able  to  build  again.  So  we  agreed  to  meet  at  Watertown  that 
day  sen'night,  and  in  the  meantime  other  places  should  be 
viewed. 

Capt.  Neal  and  three  other  gentlemen  came  hither  to  us.  He 
came  in  the  bark  Warwick,  this  summer,  to  Pascataqua,  sent  as 
governour  there  for  Sir  Ferdinando  Gorges  and  others. 

21.]  We  met  again  at  Watertown,  and  there,  upon  view  of  a 
place  a  mile  beneath  the  town,  all  agreed  it  a  fit  place  for  a  fortified 
town,  and  we  took  time  to  consider  further  about  it. 

24.]  Till  this  time  there  was  (for  the  most  part)  fair,  open 
weather,  with  gentle  frosts  in  the  night;  but  this  day  the  wind 
came  N.  W.,  very  strong,  and  some  snow  withal,  but  so  cold  as 
some  had  their  fingers  frozen,  and  in  danger  to  be  lost.  Three 
of  the  governour's  servants,  coming  in  a  shallop  from  Mistick, 
were  driven  by  the  wind  upon  Noddle's  Island,  and  forced  to  stay 
there  all  that  night,  without  fire  or  food;  yet,  through  God's 
mercy,  they  came  safe  to  Boston  next  day,  but  the  fingers  of  two 
of  them  were  blistered  with  cold,  and  one  swooned  when  he  came 
to  the  fire. 

26.]  The  rivers  were  frozen  up,  and  they  of  Charlton  could 
not  come  to  the  sermon  at  Boston  till  the  afternoon  at  high 
water. 

Many  of  our  cows  and  goats  were  forced  to  be  still  abroad  for 
want  of  houses. 

28.]  Richard  Garrett,  a  shoemaker  of  Boston,  and  one  of  the 
congregation  there,  with  one  of  his  daughters,  a  young  maid,  and 
four  others,  went  towards  Plimouth  in  a  shallop,  against  the 
advice  of  his  friends;  and  about  the  Gurnett's  Nose  the  wind 
overblew  so  much  at  N.  W.  as  they  were  forced  to  come  to  a 
killock  at  twenty  fathom,  but  their  boat  drave  and  shaked  out 
the  stone,  and  they  were  put  to  sea,  and  the  boat  took  in  much 
water,  which  did  freeze  so  hard  as  they  could  not  free  her;  so 
they  gave  themselves  for  lost,  and,  commending  themselves  to 
God,  they  disposed  themselves  to  die;  but  one  of  their  company 
espying  land  near  Cape  Cod,  they  made  shift  to  hoist  up  part  of 


48  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

their  sail,  and,  by  God's  special  providence,  were  carried  through 
the  rocks  to  the  shore,  where  some  gat  on  land,  but  some  had 
their  legs  frozen  into  the  ice,  so  as  they  were  forced  to  be  cut 
out.  Being  come  on  shore  they  kindled  a  fire,  but,  having  no 
hatchet,  they  could  get  little  wood,  and  were  forced  to  lie  in  the 
open  air  all  night,  being  extremely  cold.  In  the  morning  two  of 
their  company  went  towards  Plimouth,  (supposing  it  had  been 
within  seven  or  eight  miles,  whereas  it  was  near  fifty  miles  from 
them).  By  the  way  they  met  with  two  Indian  squaws,  who, 
coming  home,  told  their  husbands  that  they  had  met  two  English 
men.  They  thinking  (as  it  was)  that  they  had  been  shipwrecked, 
made  after  them,  and  brought  them  back  to  their  wigwam,  and 
entertained  them  kindly;  and  one  of  them  went  with  them  the 
next  day  to  Plimouth,  and  the  other  went  to  find  out  their  boat 
and  the  rest  of  their  company,  which  were  seven  miles  off,  and 
having  found  them,  he  holp  them  what  he  could,  and  returned  to 
his  wigwam,  and  fetched  a  hatchet,  and  built  them  a  wigwam 
and  covered  it,  and  gat  them  wood  (for  they  were  so  weak  and 
frozen,  as  they  could  not  stir ;)  and  Garrett  died  about  two  days 
after  his  landing;  and  the  ground  being  so  frozen  as  they  could 
not  dig  his  grave,  the  Indian  hewed  a  hole  about  half  a  yard 
deep,  with  his  hatchet,  and  having  laid  the  corpse  in  it,  he  laid 
over  it  a  great  heap  of  wood  to  keep  it  from  the  wolves.  By  this 
time  the  governour  of  Plimouth  had  sent  three  men  to  them  with 
provisions,  who  being  come,  and  not  able  to  launch  their  boat, 
(which  with  the  strong  N.  W.  wind  was  driven  up  to  the  high 
water  mark,)  the  Indian  returned  to  Plimouth  and  fetched  three 
more;  but  before  they  came,  they  had  launched  their  boat,  and 
with  a  fair  southerly  wind  were  gotten  to  Plimouth,  where  an 
other  of  their  company  died,  his  flesh  being  mortified  with  the 
frost;  and  the  two  who  went  towards  Plimouth  died  also,  one  of 
them  being  not  able  to  get  thither,  and  the  other  had  his  feet  so 
frozen  as  he  died  of  it  after.  The  girl  escaped  best,  and  one 
Harwood,  a  godly  man  of  the  congregation  of  Boston,  lay  long 
under  the  surgeon's  hands;  and  it  was  above  six  weeks  before 
they  could  get  the  boat  from  Plimouth ;  and  in  their  return  they 
were  much  distressed;  yet  their  boat  was  very  well  manned,  the 
want  whereof  before  was  the  cause  of  their  loss. 


JOHN    WINTHROP  49 

THE   INSTITUTING   OF  A   CHURCH 

[From  "The  History  of  New  England"  for  1635] 

Mr.  Shepherd,  a  godly  minister,  come  lately  out  of  England, 
and  divers  other  good  Christians,  intending  to  raise  a  church 
body,  came  and  acquainted  the  magistrates  therewith,  who  gave 
their  approbation.  They  also  sent  to  all  the  neighboring  churches 
for  their  elders  to  give  their  assistance,  at  a  certain  day,  at  New- 
town,  when  they  should  constitute  their  body.  Accordingly,  at 
this  day,  there  met  a  great  assembly,  where  the  proceeding  was 
as  followeth: 

Mr.  Shepherd  and  two  others  (who  were  after  to  be  chosen  to 
office)  sate  together  in  the  elder's  seat.  Then  the  elder  of  them 
began  with  prayer.  After  this,  Mr.  Shepherd  prayed  with  deep 
confession  of  sin,  etc.,  and  exercised  out  of  Eph.  v.  —  that  he 
might  make  it  to  himself  a  holy,  etc. ;  and  also  opened  the  cause 
of  their  meeting,  etc.  Then  the  elder  desired  to  know  of  the 
churches  assembled,  what  number  were  needful  to  make  a  church, 
and  how  they  ought  to  proceed  in  this  action.  Whereupon  some 
of  the  ancient  ministers,  conferring  shortly  together,  gave  answer: 
That  the  scripture  did  not  set  down  any  certain  rule  for  the  num 
ber.  Three  (they  thought)  were  too  few,  because  by  Matt,  xviii. 
an  appeal  was  allowed  from  three;  but  that  seven  might  be  a 
fit  number.  And,  for  their  proceeding,  they  advised,  that  such 
as  were  to  join  should  make  confession  of  their  faith,  and  declare 
what  work  of  grace  the  Lord  had  wrought  in  them ;  which  accord 
ingly  they  did,  Mr.  Shepherd  first,  then  four  others,  then  the 
elder,  and  one  who  was  to  be  deacon,  (who  had  also  prayed,)  and 
another  member.  Then  the  covenant  was  read,  and  they  all 
gave  a  solemn  assent  to  it.  Then  the  elder  desired  of  the  churches, 
that,  if  they  did  approve  them  to  be  a  church,  they  would  give 
them  the  right  hand  of  fellowship.  Whereupon  Mr.  Cotton, 
(upon  short  speech  with  some  others  near  him,)  in  the  name  of 
their  churches,  gave  his  hand  to  the  elder,  with  a  short  speech  of 
their  assent,  and  desired  the  peace  of  the  Lord  Jesus  to  be  with 
them.  Then  Mr.  Shepherd  made  an  exhortation  to  the  rest  of 
his  body,  about  the  nature  of  their  covenant,  and  to  stand  firm 
to  it,  and  commended  them  to  the  Lord  in  a  most  heavenly  prayer. 


50  EARLY  AMERICAN   WRITERS 

Then  the  elder  told  the  assembly,  that  they  were  intended  to 
choose  Mr.  Shepherd  for  their  pastor, ,  (by  the  name  of  the  brother 
who  had  exercised,)  and  desired  the  churches,  that,  if  they  had 
any  thing  to  except  against  him,  they  would  impart  it  to  them 
before  the  day  of  ordination.  Then  he  gave  the  churches  thanks 
for  their  assistance,  and  so  left  them  to  the  Lord. 

A  REMARKABLE  PROVIDENCE 

[From  "The  History  of  New  England"  for  1638] 

A  remarkable  providence  appeared  in  a  case,  which  was  tried 
at  the  last  court  of  assistants.  Divers  neighbors  of  Lynn,  by 
agreement,  kept  their  cattle  by  turns.  It  fell  out  to  the  turn  of 
one  Gillow  to  keep  them,  and,  as  he  was  driving  them  forth, 
another  of  these  neighbors  went  along  with  him,  and  kept  him 
so  earnestly  in  talk,  that  his  cattle  strayed  and  gate  in  the  corn. 
Then  this  other  neighbor  left  him,  and  would  not  help  him  re 
cover  his  cattle,  but  went  and  told  another  how  he  had  kept 
Gillow  in  talk,  that  he  might  lose  his  cattle,  etc.  The  cattle, 
getting  into  the  Indian  corn,  eat  so  much  ere  they  could  be  gotten 
out,  that  two  of  them  fell  sick  of  it,  and  one  of  them  died  presently ; 
and  these  two  cows  were  that  neighbor's,  who  had  kept  Gillow 
in  talk,  etc.  The  man  brings  his  action  against  Gillow  for  his 
cow  (not  knowing  that  he  had  witness  of  his  speech) ;  but  Gillow, 
producing  witness,  etc.,  barred  him  of  his  action,  and  had  good 
costs,  etc. 

ON  THE  NATURE   OF  LIBERTY1 

[From  "The  History  of  New  England"  for  1645] 

I  suppose  something  may  be  expected  from  me,  upon  this 
charge  that  is  befallen  me,  which  moves  me  to  speak  now  to  you; 
yet  I  intend  not  to  intermeddle  in  the  proceedings  of  the  court, 
or  with  any  of  the  persons  concerned  therein.  Only  I  bless  God, 

[ l  This  is  Winthrop's  report  of  a  speech  which  he  delivered  before  the  General 
Court  after  his  acquittal  of  a  charge  of  exceeding  his  powers  as  deputy  governor. 
The  account  of  the  whole  controversy,  which  arose  from  a  neighborhood  dispute 
over  a  trainband  captaincy,  is  interesting,  and  significant  to  the  student  of  early 
New  England  social  and  political  conditions,  but  is  too  long  to  quote  entire.] 


JOHN  WINTHROP  51 

that  I  see  an  issue  of  this  troublesome  business.  I  also  acknowl 
edge  the  justice  of  the  court,  and,  for  mine  own  part,  I  am  well 
satisfied,  I  was  publicly  charged,  and  I  am  publicly  and  legally 
acquitted,  which  is  all  I  did  expect  or  desire.  And  though  this 
be  sufficient  for  my  justification  before  men,  yet  not  so  before  the 
God,  who  hath  seen  so  much  amiss  in  my  dispensations  (and  even 
in  this  affair)  as  calls  me  to  be  humble.  For  to  be  publicly  and 
criminally  charged  in  this  court,  is  matter  of  humiliation,  (and  I 
desire  to  make  a  right  use  of  it,)  notwithstanding  I  be  thus  ac 
quitted.  If  her  father  had  spit  in  her  face,  (saith  the  Lord  con 
cerning  Miriam,)  should  she  not  have  been  ashamed  seven  days? 
Shame  had  lien  upon  her,  whatever  the  occasion  had  been.  I 
am  unwilling  to  stay  you  from  your  urgent  affairs,  yet  give  me 
leave  (upon  this  special  occasion)  to  speak  a  little  more  to  this 
assembly.  It  may  be  of  some  good  use,  to  inform  and  rectify 
the  judgments  of  some  of  the  people,  and  may  prevent  such  dis 
tempers  as  have  arisen  amongst  us.  The  great  questions  that 
have  troubled  the  country,  are  about  the  authority  of  the  magis 
trates  and  the  liberty  of  the  people.  It  is  yourselves  who  have 
called  us  to  this  office,  and  being  called  by  you,  we  have  our 
authority  from  God,  in  wray  of  an  ordinance,  such  as  hath  the 
image  of  God  eminently  stamped  upon  it,  the  contempt  and 
violation  whereof  hath  been  vindicated  with  examples  of  divine 
vengeance.  I  entreat  you  to  consider,  that  when  you  choose 
magistrates,  you  take  them  from  among  yourselves,  men  subject 
to  like  passions  as  you  are.  Therefore  when  you  see  infirmities 
in  us,  you  should  reflect  upon  your  own,  and  that  would  make 
you  bear  the  more  with  us,  and  not  be  severe  censurers  of  the 
failings  of  your  magistrates,  when  you  have  continual  experience 
of  the  like  infirmities  in  yourselves  and  others.  We  account  him 
a  good  servant,  who  breaks  not  his  covenant.  The  covenant 
between  you  and  us  is  the  oath  you  have  taken  of  us,  wrhich  is  to 
this  purpose,  that  we  shall  govern  you  and  judge  your  causes  by 
the  rules  of  God's  laws  and  our  own,  according  to  our  best  skill. 
When  you  agree  with  a  workman  to  build  you  a  ship  or  house, 
etc.,  he  undertakes  as  well  for  his  skill  as  for  his  faithfulness,  for 
it  is  his  profession,  and  you  pay  him  for  both.  But  when  you 
call  one  to  be  a  magistrate,  he  doth  not  profess  nor  undertake  to 


52  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

have  sufficient  skill  for  that  office,  nor  can  you  furnish  him  with 
gifts,  etc.,  therefore  you  must  run  the  hazard  of  his  skill  and 
ability.  But  if  he  fail  in  faithfulness,  which  by  his  oath  he  is 
bound  unto,  that  he  must  answer  for.  If  it  fall  out  that  the  case 
be  clear  to  common  apprehension,  and  the  rule  clear  also,  if  he 
transgress  here,  the  error  is  not  in  the  skill,  but  in  the  evil  of  the 
will:  it  must  be  required  of  him.  But  if  the  case  be  doubtful, 
or  the  rule  doubtful,  to  men  of  such  understanding  and  parts  as 
your  magistrates  are,  if  your  magistrates  should  err  here,  your 
selves  must  bear  it. 

For  the  other  point  concerning  liberty,  I  observe  a  great  mis 
take  in  the  country  about  that.  There  is  a  twofold  liberty, 
natural  (I  mean  as  our  nature  is  now  corrupt)  and  civil  or  federal. 
The  first  is  common  to  man  with  beasts  and  other  creatures.  By 
this,  man,  as  he  stands  in  relation  to  man  simply,  hath  liberty 
to  do  what  he  lists ;  it  is  a  liberty  to  evil  as  well  as  to  good.  This 
liberty  is  incompatible  and  inconsistent  with  authority,  and  can 
not  endure  the  least  restraint  of  the  most  just  authority.  The 
exercise  and  maintaining  of  this  liberty  makes  men  grow  more 
evil,  and  in  time  to  be  worse  than  brute  beasts:  omnes  sumus 
licentia  deteriores.  This  is  that  great  enemy  of  truth  and  peace, 
that  wild  beast,  which  all  the  ordinances  of  God  are  bent  against, 
to  restrain  and  subdue  it.  The  other  kind  of  liberty  I  call  civil 
or  federal,  it  may  also  be  termed  moral,  in  reference  to  the  cove 
nant  between  God  and  man,  in  the  moral  law,  and  the  politic 
covenants  and  constitutions,  amongst  men  themselves.  This 
liberty  is  the  proper  end  and  object  of  authority,  and  cannot 
subsist  without  it;  and  it  is  a  liberty  to  that  only  which  is  good, 
just,  and  honest.  This  liberty  you  are  to  stand  for,  with  the 
hazard  (not  only  of  your  goods,  but)  of  your  lives,  if  need  be. 
Whatsoever  crosseth  this,  is  not  authority,  but  a  distemper  thereof. 
This  liberty  is  maintained  and  exercised  in  a  way  of  subjection 
to  authority;  it  is  of  the  same  kind  of  liberty  wherewith  Christ 
hath  made  us  free.  The  woman's  own  choice  makes  such  a 
man  her  husband;  yet  being  so  chosen,  he  is  her  lord,  and  she 
is  to  be  subject  to  him,  yet  in  a  way  of  liberty,  not  of  bondage; 
and  a  true  wife  accounts  her  subjection  her  honor  and  freedom, 
and  would  not  think  her  condition  safe  and  free,  but  in  her  sub- 


JOHN   WINTHROP 


53 


jection  to  her  husband's  authority.  Such  is  the  liberty  of  the 
church  under  the  authority  of  Christ,  her  king  and  husband;  his 
yoke  is  so  easy  and  sweet  to  her  as  a  bride's  ornaments;  and  if 
through  frowardness  or  wantonness,  etc.,  she  shake  it  off,  at  any 
time,  she  is  at  no  rest  in  her  spirit,  until  she  take  it  up  again; 
and  whether  her  lord  smiles  upon  her,  and  embraceth  her  in  his 
arms,  or  whether  he  frowns,  or  rebukes,  or  smites  her,  she  appre 
hends  the  sweetness  of  his  love  in  all,  and  is  refreshed,  supported, 
and  instructed  by  every  such  dispensation  of  his  authority  over 
her.  On  the  other  side,  ye  know  who  tfeey  are  that  complain  of 
this  yoke  and  say,  let  us  break  their  bands,  etc.,  we  will  not  have 
this  man  to  rule  over  us.  Even  so,  brethren,  it  will  be  betwreen 
you  and  your  magistrates.  If  you  stand  for  your  natural  corrupt 
liberties,  and  will  do  what  is  good  in  your  own  eyes,  you  will  not 
endure  the  least  weight  of  authority,  but  will  murmur,  and  oppose, 
and  be  always  striving  to  shake  off  that  yoke ;  but  if  you  will  be 
satisfied  to  enjoy  such  civil  and  lawful  liberties,  such  as  Christ 
allows  you,  then  will  you  quietly  and  cheerfully  submit  unto  that 
authority  which  is  set  over  you,  in  all  the  administrations  of  it, 
for  your  good.  Wherein,  if  we  fail  at  any  time,  we  hope  we 
shall  be  willing  (by  God's  assistance)  to  hearken  to  good  advice 
from  any  of  you,  or  in  any  other  way  of  God ;  so  shall  your  liber 
ties  be  preserved,  in  upholding  the  honor  and  power  of  authority 
amongst  you. 

SOME  EDIFYING   CASUALTIES 

[From  "The  History  of  New  England"  for  1648] 

About  eight  persons  were  drowned  this  winter,  all  by  adven 
turing  upon  the  ice,  except  three,  whereof  two  (one  of  them  being 
far  in  drink)  would  needs  pass  from  Boston  to  Winisemett  in  a 
small  boat  and  a  tempestuous  night.  This  man  (using  to  come 
home  to  Winisemett  drunken)  his  wife  would  tell  him,  he  would 
one  day  be  drowned,  etc.,  but  he  made  light  of  it.  Another  went 
aboard  a  ship  to  make  merry  the  last  day  at  night,  (being  the 
beginning  of  the  Lord's  day,)  and  returning  about  midnight  with 
three  of  the  ship's  company,  the  boat  was  overset  by  means  of 
the  ice,  they  guiding  her  by  a  rope,  which  went  from  the  ship  to 


54  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

the  shore.  The  seamen  waded  out,  but  the  Boston  man  was 
drowned,  being  a  man  of  good  conversation  and  hopeful  of  some 
work  of  grace  begun  in  him,  but  drawn  away  by  the  seamen's 
invitation.  God  will  be  sanctified  in  them  that  come  near  him. 
Two  others  were  the  children  of  one  of  the  church  of  Boston. 
While  the  parents  were  at  the  lecture,  the  boy  (being  about  seven 
years  of  age,)  having  a  small  staff  in  his  hand,  ran  down  upon 
the  ice  towards  a  boat  he  saw,  and  the  ice  breaking,  he  fell  in, 
but  his  staff  kept  him  up,  till  his  sister,  about  fourteen  years  old, 
ran  down  to  save  her  brother  (though  there  were  four  men  at 
hand,  and  called  to  her  not  to  go,  being  themselves  hasting  to 
save  him)  and  so  drowned  herself  and  him  also,  being  past 
recovery  ere  the  men  could  come  at  them,  and  could  easily  reach 
ground  with  their  feet.  The  parents  had  no  more  sons,  and 
confessed  they  had  been  too  indulgent  towards  him,  and  had  set 
their  hearts  over  much  upon  him. 

This  puts  me  in  mind  of  another  child  very  strangely  drowned 
a  little  before  winter.  The  parents  were  also  members  of  the 
church  of  Boston.  The  father  had  undertaken  to  maintain  the 
mill-dam,  and  being  at  work  upon  it,  (with  some  help  he  had 
hired,)  in  the  afternoon  of  the  last  day  of  the  week,  night  came 
upon  them  before  they  had  finished  what  they  intended,  and  his 
conscience  began  to  put  him  in  mind  of  the  Lord's  day,  and  he 
was  troubled,  yet  went  on  and  wrought  an  hour  within  night. 
The  next  day,  after  evening  exercise,  -and  after  they  had  supped, 
the  mother  put  two  children  to  bed  in  the  room  where  themselves 
did  lie,  and  they  went  out  to  visit  a  neighbor.  When  they  re 
turned,  they  continued  about  an  hour  in  the  room,  and  missed 
not  the  child,  but  then  the  mother  going  to  the  bed,  and  not  find 
ing  her  youngest  child,  (a  daughter  about  five  years  of  age,)  after 
much  search  she  found  it  drowned  in  a  well  in  her  cellar;  which 
was  very  observable,  as  by  a  special  hand  of  God,  that  the  child 
should  go  out  of  that  room  into  another  in  the  dark,  and  then 
fall  down  at  a  trap  door,  or  go  down  the  stairs,  and  so  into  the 
well  in  the  farther  end  of  the  cellar,  the  top  of  the  well  and  the 
water  being  even  with  the  ground.  But  the  father,  freely  in  the 
open  congregation,  did  acknowledge  it  the  righteous  hand  of  God 
for  his  profaning  his  holy  day  against  the  checks  of  his  own 
conscience. 


JOHN   WINTHROP  55 

RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCES 

[From   Winthrop's    "Christian   Experience,"    written    on   his   forty-ninth 

birthday] 

About  1 8  years  of  age,  (being  a  man  in  stature,  &  understanding 
as  my  parents  conceived  me)  I  married  into  a  family  under  Mr. 
Culverwell  his  ministry  in  Essex ;  &  living  there  sometimes  I  first 
found  the  ministry  of  the  Word  to  come  home  to  my  heart  with 
power,  (for  in  all  before  I  found  only  light)  &  after  that  I  found 
the  like  in  the  ministry  of  many  others.  So  as  there  began  to  be 
some  change  which  I  perceived  in  myself,  &  others  took  notice  of. 
Now  I  began  to  come  under  strong  exercises  of  conscience,  (yet 
by  fits  only).  I  could  no  longer  dally  with  religion.  God  put 
my  soule  to  sad  tasks  sometimes,  which  yet  the  flesh  would  shake 
off,  &  outwear  still.  I  had  withal  many  sweet  invitations,  which 
I  would  willingly  have  entertained,  but  the  flesh  would  not  give 
up  her  interest.  The  merciful  Lord  would  not  thus  bee  answered, 
but  notwithstanding  all  my  stubbornnesse  &  unkind  rejections  of 
mercy,  hee  left  me  not  till  he  had  overcome  my  heart  to  give  up 
itself  to  him,  &  to  bid  farewell  to  all  the  world,  &  until  my  heart 
could  answer,  "Lord!  what  wilt  thou  have  mee  doe?" 

Now  came  I  to  some  peace  &  comfort  in  God  &  in  his  wayes, 
my  chief  delight  was  therein.  I  loved  a  Christian  &  the  very 
ground  hee  went  upon.  I  honoured  a  faythful  minister  in  my 
heart  &  could  have  kissed  his  feet :  Now  I  grew  full  of  zeal  (which 
outranne  my  knowledge  &  carried  mee  sometimes  beyond  my 
calling),  &  very  liberall  to  any  good  work.  I  had  an  unsatiable 
thirst  after  the  word  of  God  &  could  not  misse  a  good  sermon, 
though  many  miles  off,  especially  of  such  as  did  search  deep  into 
the  conscience.  I  had  also  a  great  striving  in  my  heart  to  draw 
others  to  God.  It  pitied  my  heart  to  see  men  so  little  to  regard 
their  soules,  &  to  despise  that  happiness  which  I  knew  to  be 
better  than  all  the  world  besides,  which  stirred  mee  up  to  take 
any  opportunity  to  draw  men  to  God,  &  by  successe  in  my  endeav 
ours  I  took  much  encouragement  hereunto.  But  these  affections 
were  not  constant,  but  very  unsettled.  By  these  occasions  I  grew 
to  bee  of  some  note  for  religion  (which  did  not  a  little  puff  mee 
up)  &  divers  would  come  to  mee  for  advice  in  cases  of  conscience ; 


56  EARLY  AMERICAN   WRITERS 

—  &  if  I  heard  of  any  that  were  in  trouble  of  mind  I  usually  went 
to  comfort  them;  so  that  upon  the  bent  of  my  spirit  this  way  & 
the  success  I  found  of  my  endeavours,  I  gave  up  myself  to  the 
study  of  Divinity,  &  intended  to  enter  into  the  ministry,  if  my 
friends  had  not  diverted  me. 

But  as  I  grew  into  employment  &  credit  thereby;  so  I  grew 
also  in  pride  of  my  guifts,  &  under  temptations  which  sett  mee  on 
work  to  look  to  my  evidence  more  narrowly  than  I  had  done  before 
(for  the  great  change  which  God  had  wrought  in  mee,  &  the  gen- 
erall  approbation  of  good  ministers  &  other  Christians,  kept  me 
from  making  any  great  question  of  my  good  estate,)  though  my 
secret  corruptions,  &  some  tremblings  of  heart  (which  was  great 
est  when  I  was  among  the  most  godly  persons)  put  me  to  some 
plunges ;  but  especially  when  I  perceived  a  great  decay  in  my  zeal 
&  love,  &c.  And  hearing  sometimes  of  better  assurance  by  the 
scale  of  the  Spirit,  which  I  also  knew  by  the  word  of  God,  but 
could  not,  nor  durst  say  that  ever  I  had  it ;  &  finding  by  reading 
of  Mr.  Perkin's  &  other  books,  that  a  reprobate  might  (in  appear 
ance)  attaine  to  as  much  as  I  had  done;  finding  withal  much 
hollowness  &  vaine  glory  in  my  heart,  I  began  to  grow  very  sad, 
&  knew  not  what  to  do :  I  was  ashamed  to  open  my  case  to  any 
minister  that  knew  mee ;  I  feared  it  would  shame  myself  &  reli 
gion  also,  that  such  an  eminent  professor  as  I  was  accounted, 
should  discover  such  corruptions  as  I  found  in  myself;  &  had  in 
all  this  time  attained  no  better  evidence  of  salvation;  &  [if]  I 
should  prove  a  hypocrite,  it  was  too  late  to  begin  anew :  I  should 
never  repent  in  truth ;  having  repented  so  oft  as  I  had  done.  It 
was  like  Hell  to  mee  to  think  of  that  in  Hebr.  6.  Yet  I  should 
sometimes  propound  questions  afarre  off  to  such  of  the  most  godly 
ministers  as  I  mett,  which  gave  mee  ease  for  the  present,  but  my 
heart  could  not  find  where  to  rest ;  but  I  grew  very  sad  &  melan 
choly;  &  now  to  hear  others  applaud  mee,  was  a  dart  through 
my  liver;  for  still  I  feared  I  was  not  sound  at  the  root,  and  some 
times  I  had  thoughts  of  breaking  from  my  profession,  &  proclaim 
myself  an  hypocrite.  But  these  troubles  came  not  all  at  once  but 
by  fits,  for  sometimes  I  should  find  refreshing  in  prayer,  &  some 
times  in  the  love  that  I  had  had  to  the  Saints :  which  though  it 
were  but  poor  comfort  (for  I  durst  not  say  before  the  Lord  that 


JOHN   WINTHROP 


57 


I  did  love  them  in  truth),  yet  the  Lord  upheld  mee,  and  many 
times  outward  occasions  put  these  fears  out  of  my  thoughts.  And 
though  I  had  knowne  long  before,  the  Doctrine  of  free  Justifica 
tion  by  Christ,  &  had  often  urged  it  upon  my  owne  soul  &  others, 
yet  I  could  not  close  with  Christ  to  my  satisfaction.  —  I  have 
many  times  striven  to  lay  hold  upon  Christ  in  some  promise,  & 
have  brought  forth  all  the  arguments  that  I  had  for  my  part  in 
it.  But  instead  of  finding  it  to  bee  mine,  I  have  lost  sometimes 
the  faith  of  the  very  general  truth  of  the  promise,  sometimes 
after  much  striving  by  prayer  for  faith  in  Christ,  I  have  thought 
I  had  received  some  power  to  apply  Christ  unto  my  soul:  but 
it  was  so  doubtfull  as  I  could  have  little  comfort  in  it,  &:  it  soon 
vanished. 

LETTERS   TO   MRS.   WINTHROP 


To  Mrs.  Marg.  Winthrop,  the  elder,  at  Groton. 
MY  FAITHFUL  AND  DEAR  WIFE,  —  It  pleaseth  God,  that  thou 
shouldst  once  again  hear  from  me  before  our  departure,  and  I 
hope  this  shall  come  safe  to  thy  hands.  I  know  it  will  be  a  great 
refreshing  to  thee.  And  blessed  be  his  mercy,  that  I  can  write 
thee  so  good  news,  that  we  are  all  in  very  good  health,  and,  hav 
ing  tried  our  ship's  entertainment  now  more  than  a  week,  we  find 
it  agree  very  well  with  us.  Our  boys  are  well  and  cheerful,  and 
have  no  mind  of  home.  They  lie  both  with  me,  and  sleep  as 
soundly  in  a  rug  (for  we  use  no  sheets  here)  as  ever  they  did  at 
Groton;  and  so  I  do  myself,  (I  praise  God).  The  wind  hath  been 
against  us  this  week  and  more;  but  this  day  it  has  come  fair  to 
the  north,  so  as  we  are  preparing  (by  God's  assistance)  to  set  sail 
in  the  morning.  We  have  only  four  ships  ready,  and  some  two  or 
three  Hollanders  go  along  with  us.  The  rest  of  our  fleet  (being 
seven  ships)  will  not  be  ready  this  sennight.  We  have  spent  now 
two  Sabbaths  on  shipboard  very  comfortably,  (God  be  praised,) 
and  are  daily  more  and  more  encouraged  to  look  for  the  Lord's 
presence  to  go  along  with  us.  Henry  Kingsbury  hath  a  child  or 
two  in  the  Talbot  sick  of  the  measles,  but  like  to  do  well.  One  of 
my  men  had  them  at  Hampton,  but  he  was  soon  well  again.  We 
are,  in  all  our  eleven  ships,  about  seven  hundred  persons,  pas- 


58  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

sengers,  and  two  hundred  and  forty  cows,  and  about  sixty  horses. 
The  ship,  which  went  from  Plimouth,  carried  about  one  hundred 
and  forty  persons,  and  the  ship,  which  goes  from  Bristowe,  carrieth 
about  eighty  persons.  And  now  (my  sweet  soul)  I  must  once  again 
take  my  last  farewell  of  thee  in  Old  England.  It  goeth  very  near 
to  my  heart  to  leave  thee ;  but  I  know  to  whom  I  have  committed 
thee,  even  to  him  who  loves  thee  much  better  than  any  husband 
can,  who  hath  taken  account  of  the  hairs  of  thy  head,  and  puts 
all  thy  tears  in  his  bottle,  who  can,  and  (if  it  be  for  his  glory)  will 
bring  us  together  again  with  peace  and  comfort.  Oh,  how  it 
refresheth  my  heart,  to  think,  that  I  shall  yet  again  see  thy  sweet 
face  in  the  land  of  the  living !  —  that  lovely  countenance,  that  I 
have  so  much  delighted  in,  and  beheld  with  so  great  content !  I 
have  hitherto  been  so  taken  up  with  business,  as  I  could  seldom 
look  back  to  my  former  happiness ;  but  now,  when  I  shall  be  at 
some  leisure,  I  shall  not  avoid  the  remembrance  of  thee,  nor  the 
grief  for  thy  absence.  Thou  hast  thy  share  with-  me,  but  I  hope 
the  course  we  have  agreed  upon  will  be  some  ease  to  us  both. 
Mondays  and  Fridays,  at  five  of  the  clock  at  night,  we  shall  meet 
in  spirit  till  we  meet  in  person.  Yet,  if  all  these  hopes  should  fail, 
blessed  be  our  God,  that  we  are  assured  we  shall  meet  one  day,  if 
not  as  husband  and  wife,  yet  in  a  better  condition.  Let  that  stay 
and  comfort  thy  heart.  Neither  can  the  sea  drown  thy  husband, 
nor  enemies  destroy,  nor  any  adversary  deprive  thee  of  thy  hus 
band  or  children.  Therefore  I  will  only  take  thee  now  and  my 
sweet  children  in  mine  arms,  and  kiss  and  embrace  you  all,  and 
so  leave  you  with  my  God.  Farewell,  farewell.  I  bless  you  all 
in  the  name  of  the  Lord  Jesus.  I  salute  my  daughter  Winth. 
Matt.  Nan.  and  the  rest,  and  all  my  good  neighbors  and  friends. 
Pray  all  for  us.  Farewell.  Commend  my  blessing  to  my  son 
John.  I  cannot  now  write  to  him ;  but  tell  him  I  have  committed 
thee  and  thine  to  him.  Labor  to  draw  him  yet  nearer  to  God,  and 
he  will  be  the  surer  staff  of  comfort  to  thee.  I  cannot  name  the 
rest  of  my  good  friends,  but  thou  canst  supply  it.  I  wrote,  a  week 
since,  to  thee  and  Mr.  Leigh,  and  divers  others. 
Thine  wheresoever, 

JO.      WlNTHROP. 

From  aboard  the  ARBELLA,  riding  at  the  COWES,  March  28, 1630. 


JOHN   WINTHROP 


59 


I  would  have  written  to  my  brother  and  sister  Gostling,  but  it  is 
near  midnight.  Let  this  excuse ;  and  commend  my  love  to  them 
and  all  theirs. 

II 

ffor  Mrs.  Winthrop  at  her  house  in  Boston. 

SWEET  HEART,  —  I  was  unwillingly  hinderd  from  comminge  to 
thee,  nor  am  I  like  to  see  thee  before  the  last  daye  of  this  weeke : 
therefore  I  shall  want  a  band  or  2 :  &  cuffes.  I  pray  thee  also 
send  me  6 :  or  7 :  leaves  of  Tobacco  dried  and  powdred.  Have 
care  of  thy  selfe  this  colde  weather,  &  speak  to  the  folkes  to  keepe 
the  goates  well  out  of  the  Garden;  &  if  my  brother  Peter  hath 
not  fetched  away  the  sheep  ramme,  let  them  looke  him  up  &  give 
him  meate,  the  green  pease  in  the  Garden  &c  are  good  for  him: 
If  any  lettres  be  come  for  me  send  them  by  this  bearer.  I  will 
trouble  thee  no  further,  the  Lorde  blesse  &  keepe  thee  my  sweet 
wife  &  all  our  f amilye :  &  send  us  a  comfortable  meetinge,  so  I 
kisse  thee  &  love  thee  ever  &  rest 

Thy  faithfull  husband, 

Jo:  WINTHROP 

This  6th  of  the  gth,  1637.- 


THOMAS   MORTON 

[Thomas  Morton,  though  of  no  great  importance  as  an  author  or  as  a 
man,  affords  a  pleasing  relief  from  the  severity  of  most  of  the  early  New 
England  writers.  He  was  born  in  England  about  1575,  and  became  a 
lawyer  of  Clifford's  Inn,  London.  He  seems  to  have  been  in  America  at 
least  four  times,  but  the  events  of  his  expeditions  are  so  confused  in  his  own 
writings  that  the  details  of  his  career  are  hard  to  trace.  It  was  on  his  second 
visit,  in  1625,  that  he  established  himself  at  Mount  Wollaston,  or  Merry 
(Ma-re)  Mount.  Here,  with  a  few  congenial  companions,  he  traded  with 
the  Indians,  and  enjoyed  life  after  his  own  fashion.  His  more  austere 
neighbors  charged,  probably  with  truth,  that  he  furnished  spirits  and  fire 
arms  to  the  Indians,  and  that  he  was  guilty  of  personal  immoralities.  It  is 
probable,  however,  that  their  dislike  for  him  arose  in  large  measure  from 
his  ridicule  of  the  Puritans,  from  his  nominal  adherence  to  the  Church  of 
England,  and  from  his  indulgence  in  abhorred  English  festivities,  especially 
those  about  his  famous  May-pole,  which  he  erected  in  1627.  Governor 
Bradford's  account  of  his  plantation,  and  of  his  arrest,  has  been  given  on  an 
earlier  page,  and  may  be  compared  with  his  own  story  of  the  same  occurrences 
in  some  of  the  selections  that  follow.  After  being  sent  to  England  he  at  once 
returned  to  plague  the  colonists,  and  in  1630  was  again  arrested  and  de 
ported.  It  is  probable  that  Morton  was  an  undesirable  citizen,  but  it  is 
doubtful  if  he  committed  any  serious  offence  punishable  by  English  law.  At 
all  events  he  was  not  punished  on  either  occasion  when  he  was  sent  to  Eng 
land,  but  allied  himself  with  the  party  that  was  working  for  the  revocation 
of  the  Massachusetts  charter,  and  succeeded  in  causing  the  colonists  much 
trouble.  On  his  fourth  visit  to  America,  in  1643,  ne  was  imprisoned  at 
Boston  for  a  year,  ostensibly  to  wait  for  further  evidence;  but  no  further 
evidence  was  produced,  and  he  was  set  at  liberty.  By  this  time  the  Puritan 
successes  had  destroyed  the  hopes  of  his  party  in  England,  and,  broken  in 
health  and  fortune,  he  retired  to  Agamenticus,  Maine,  and  died  there  in  1646. 
His  picturesque  career  has  always  appealed  to  students  of  early  New  England 
life,  and  has  inspired  more  than  one  literary  attempt.  Especially  notable 
are  Motley's  novel  of  "Merry  Mount"  and  Hawthorne's  tale,  "The  May- 
Pole  of  Merry  Mount." 

Morton's  only  book  was  the  "New  English  Canaan,  or  New  Canaan." 
There  has  been  considerable  discussion  regarding  the  history  of  this  work, 
but  it  seems  reasonably  certain  that  it  was  written  in  1634  or  1635,  to  create 
a  prejudice  against  the  Massachusetts  Puritans  at  the  time  when  their  charter 
was  attacked;  and  that  it  was  first  published  at  Amsterdam  in  1637.  To 
this  foreign  printing  may  be  due  the  crudities  and  inaccuracies  of  the  text, 
which  is  in  many  places  obviously  corrupt. 


THOMAS  MORTON  6l 

As  is  indicated  on  the  title-page,  the  "New  English  Canaan"  is  divided 
into  three  books:  "The  first  Booke  setting  forth  the  originall  of  the  Natives, 
their  Manners  and  Customes,  together  with  their  tractable  Nature  and  Love 
towards  the  English.  The  second  Booke  setting  forth  the  naturall  Indow- 
ments  of  the  Country,  and  what  staple  Commodities  it  yealdeth.  The 
third  Booke  setting  forth,  what  people  are  planted  there,  their  prosperity, 
what  remarkable  accidents  have  happened  since  the  first  planting  of  it,  to 
gether  with  their  Tenents  and  practise  of  their  Church."  The  third  book 
is  the  most  interesting,  and  also  the  most  obviously  biased  and  unfair. 
Morton  is  notable  for  a  certain  coarse  but  quick-witted  cleverness  which 
will  be  observed  more  than  once  in  the  selections  that  follow.  One  of  his 
cruder  devices  is  that  of  using  nicknames.  Miles  Standish  is  always  "Cap- 
taine  Shrimp,"  Governor  Winthrop  is  "Joshua  Temperwell";  "Bubble," 
"Eacus,"  and  other  characters  in  his  narrative  are  less  readily  identified. 

The  text  of  the  following  selections  follows  the  edition  made  for  the  Prince 
Society  by  Charles  Francis  Adams,  Jr.,  in  1883.  All  the  selections  except 
the  "Dedication"  are  complete  chapters,  and  the  titles  assigned  to  each 
are  Morton's  own  chapter  headings.] 

DEDICATION  OF  THE  NEW  ENGLISH   CANAAN 

To  the  right  honorable,  the  Lords  and 

others  of  his  Majesties  most  honorable  privy  Coun- 
cell,  Commissioners,  for  the  Government  of  all  his 
Majesties  forraigne  Provinces. 
Right  honorable, 

The  zeale  which  I  beare  to  the  advauncement  of  the  glory  of 
God,  the  honor  of  his  Majesty,  and  the  good  of  the  weale  publike 
hath  incouraged  mee  to  compose  this  abstract,  being  the  modell 
of  a  Rich,  hopefull  and  very  beautifull  Country  worthy  the  Title 
of  Natures  Masterpeece,  and  may  be  lost  by  too  much  sufferance . 
It  is  but  a  widowes  mite,  yet  all  that  wrong  and  rapine  hath  left 
mee  to  bring  from  thence,  where  I  have  indevoured  my  best, 
bound  by  my  allegeance,  to  doe  his  Majesty  service.  This  in  all 
humility  I  present  as  an  offering,  wherewith  I  prostrate  my  selfe 
at  your  honorable  footstoole.  If  you  please  to  vouchsafe  it  may 
receave  a  blessing  from  the  Luster  of  your  gracious  Beames,  you 
shall  make  your  vassaile  happy,  in  that  hee  yet  doth  live  to  shew 
how  ready  hee  is,  and  alwayes  hath  bin,  to  sacrifice  his  dearest 
blood,  as  becometh  a  loyall  subject,  for  the  honor  of  his  native 
Country.  Being 

your  honors  humble  vassaile 

THOMAS  MORTON. 


62  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

THE   GENERALL   SURVEY   OF  THE   COUNTRY 

[From  "New  English  Canaan,"  Book  II,  Chap.  I] 

In  the  Moneth  of  June,  Anno  Salutis  1622,  it  was  my  chaunce  to 
arrive  in  the  parts  of  New  England  with  30.  Servants,  and  provi 
sion  of  all  sorts  fit  for  a  plantation :  and  whiles  our  howses  were 
building,  I  did  indeavour  to  take  a  survey  of  the  Country:  The 
more  I  looked,  the  more  I  liked  it.  And  when  I  had  more  seri 
ously  considered  of  the  bewty  of  the  place,  with  all  her  faire  in- 
dowments,  I  did  not  thinke  that  in  all  the  knowne  world  it  could 
be  paralel'd,  for  so  many  goodly  groves  of  trees,  dainty  fine  round 
rising  hillucks,  delicate  faire  large  plaines,  sweete  cristall  foun- 
taines,  and  cleare  running  streames  that  twine  in  fine  meanders 
through  the  meads,  making  so  sweete  a  murmering  noise  to  heare 
as  would  even  lull  the  sences  with  delight  a  sleepe,  so  pleasantly 
doe  they  glide  upon  the  pebble  stones,  jetting  most  jocundly  where 
they  doe  meete  and  hand  in  hand  runne  downe  to  Neptunes  Court, 
to  pay  the  yearely  tribute  which  they  owe  to  him  as  soveraigne 
Lord  of  all  the  springs.  Contained  within  the  volume  of  the  Land, 
Fowles  in  abundance,  Fish  in  multitude ;  and  discovered,  besides, 
Millions  of  Turtledoves  one  the  greene  boughes,  which  sate  peck 
ing  of  the  full  ripe  pleasant  grapes  that  were  supported  by  the 
lusty  trees,  whose  fruitfull  loade  did  cause  the  armes  to  bend: 
which  here  and  there  dispersed,  you  might  see  Lillies  and  of  the 
Daphnean-tree :  which  made  the  Land  to  mee  seeme  paradice: 
for  in  mine  eie  t'was  Natures  Masterpeece;  Her  cheifest  Maga 
zine  of  all  where  lives  her  store :  if  this  Land  be  not  rich,  then  is 
the  whole  world  poore. 

What  I  had  resolved  on,  I  have  really  performed;  and  I  have 
endeavoured  to  use  this  abstract  as  an  instrument,  to  bee  the 
meanes  to  communicate  the  knowledge  which  I  have  gathered,  by 
my  many  yeares  residence  in  those  parts,  unto  my  Countrymen: 
to  the  end  that  they  may  the  better  perceive  their  error,  who  can 
not  imagine  that  there  is  any  Country  in  the  universall  world  which 
may  be  compared  unto  our  native  soyle.  I  will  now  discover 
unto  them  a  Country  whose  indowments  are  by  learned  men 
allowed  to  stand  in  a  paralell  with  the  Israelites  Canaan,  which 


THOMAS   MORTON  63 

none  will  deny  to  be  a  land  farre  more  excellent  then  Old  England, 
in  her  proper  nature. 

This  I  consider  I  am  bound  in  duety  (as  becommeth  a  Christian 
man)  to  performe  for  the  glory  of  God,  in  the  first  place;  next, 
(according  to  Cicero,)  to  acknowledge  that,  Non  nobis  solum  nati 
sumus,  sed  partim  patria,  partim  parentes,  partim  amid  vindicant. 

For  which  cause  I  must  approove  of  the  indeavoures  of  my 
Country  men,  that  haVe  bin  studious  to  inlarge  the  territories  of  his 
Majesties  empire  by  planting  Colonies  in  America. 

And  of  all  other,  I  must  applaude  the  judgement  of  those  that 
have  made  choise  of  this  part,  (whereof  I  now  treat,)  being  of  all 
other  most  absolute,  as  I  will  make  it  appeare  hereafter  by  way  of 
paralell.  Among  those  that  have  setled  themselvs  in  new  Eng 
land,  some  have  gone  for  their  conscience  sake,  (as  they  professe,) 
and  I  wish  that  they  may  plant  the  Gospel  of  Jesus  Christ,  as 
becommeth  them,  sincerely  and  without  satisme  or  faction,  what 
soever  their  former  or  present  practises  are,  which  I  intend  not  to 
justifie:  howsoever,  they  have  deserved  (in  mine  opinion)  some 
commendationes,  in  that  they  have  furnished  the  Country  so  com- 
modiously  in  so  short  a  time;  although  it  hath  bin  but  for  their 
owne  profit,  yet  posterity  will  taste  the  sweetnes  of  it,  and  that 
very  sodainly. 

And  since  my  taske,  in  this  part  of  mine  abstract,  is  to  intreat 
of  the  naturall  indowments  of  the  Country,  I  will  make  a  breife 
demonstration  of  them  in  order,  severally,  according  to  their 
severall  qualities :  and  shew  you  what  they  are,  and  what  profit 
able  use  may  be  made  by  them  of  industry. 


OF  THOMAS  MORTONS  ENTERTAINEMENT  AT 
PLIMMOUTH,  AND  CASTINGE  AWAY  UPON  AN 
ISLAND 

[From  "New  English  Canaan,"  Book  III,  Chap.  VII] 

This  man  arrived  in  those  parts,  and,  hearing  newes  of  a  Towne 
that  was  much  praised,  he  was  desirous  to  goe  thither,  and  see  how 
thinges  stood;  where  his  entertainement  was  their  best,  I  dare 
be  bould  to  say:  for,  although  they  had  but  3.  Cowes  in  all,  yet 


64  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

had  they  fresh  butter  and  a  sallet  of  egges  in  dainty  wise,  a  dish 
not  common  in  a  wildernes.  There  hee  bestowed  some  time  in  the 
survey  of  this  plantation.  His  new  come  servants,  in  the  meane 
time,  were  tane  to  taske,  to  have  their  zeale  appeare,  and  ques 
tioned  what  preacher  was  among  their  company;  and  rinding  none, 
did  seeme  to  condole  their  estate  as  if  undone,  because  no  man 
among  them  had  the  guift  to  be  in  Jonas  steade,  nor  they  the 
meanes  to  keepe  them  in  that  path  so  hard  to  keepe. 

Our  Master,  say  they,  reades  the  Bible  and  the  word  of  God,  and 
useth  the  booke  of  common  prayer :  but  this  is  not  the  meanes,  the 
answere  is :  the  meanes,  they  crie,  alas,  poore  Soules  where  is  the 
meanes?  you  seeme  as  if  betrayed,  to  be  without  the  meanes: 
how  can  you  be  stayed  from  fallinge  headlonge  to  perdition? 
Facilis  descensus  averni:  the  booke  of  common  prayer,  sayd  they, 
what  poore  thinge  is  that,  for  a  man  to  reade  in  a  booke  ?  No,  no, 
good  sirs,  I  would  you  were  neere  us,  you  might  receave  comfort  by 
instruction:  give  me  a  man  hath  the  guiftes  of  the  spirit,  not  a 
booke  in  hand.  I  doe  professe  sayes  one,  to  live  without  the 
meanes  is  dangerous,  the  Lord  doth  know. 

By  these  insinuations,  like  the  Serpent,  they  did  creepe  and  winde 
into  the  good  opinion  of  the  illiterate  multitude,  that  were  desirous 
to  be  freed  and  gone  to  them,  no  doubdt,  (which  some  of  them  after 
confessed);  and  little  good  was  to  be  done  one  them  after  this 
charme  was  used :  nowplotts  and  factions  how  they  might  get  loose  : 
and  here  was  some  35.  stout  knaves;  and  some  plotted  how  to 
steale  Master  Westons  barque,  others,  exasperated  knavishly  to 
worke,  would  practise  how  to  gett  theire  Master  to  an  Island,  and 
there  leave  him;  which  hee  had  notice  of,  and  fitted  him  to  try 
what  would  be  done ;  and  steps  aborde  his  shallop  bound  for  Cape 
Anne,  to  the  Massachusetts,  with  an  Hogshead  of  Wine;  Sugar 
hee  tooke  along,  the  Sailes  hoist  up,  and  one  of  the  Conspirators 
aboard  to  steere ;  who  in  the  mid  way  pretended  foule  weather  at 
the  harboure  mouth,  and  therefore,  for  a  time,  hee  would  put  in  to 
an  Island  neere,  and  make  some  stay  where  hee  thought  to  tempt 
his  Master  to  walke  the  woods,  and  so  be  gone:  but  their 
Master  to  prevent  them  caused  the  sales  and  oares  to  be  brought  a 
shore,  to  make  a  tilt  if  neede  showld  be,  and  kindled  fire,  broched 
that  Hogshed,  and  caused  them  fill  the  can  with  lusty  liquor, 


THOMAS   MORTON  65 

Claret  sparklinge  neate ;  which  was  not  suffered  to  grow  pale  and 
flatt,  but  tipled  of  with  quick  dexterity :  the  Master  makes  a  shew 
of  keepinge  round,  but  with  close  lipps  did  seeme  to  make  longe 
draughts,  knowinge  the  wine  would  make  them  Protestants;  and 
so  the  plot  was  then  at  large  disclosed  and  discovered,  and  they 
made  drowsie;  and  the  inconstant  windes  shif tinge  at  night  did 
force  the  kellecke  home,  and  billedge  the  boat,  that  they  were 
forced  to  leave  her  so,  and  cut  downe  trees  that  grew  by  the  shore, 
to  make  Gaffes:  two  of  them  went  over  by  helpe  of  a  fore  saile 
almost  a  mile  to  the  maine ;  the  other  two  stayed  five  dayes  after, 
till  the  windes  would  serve  to  fill  the  sailes.  The  first  two  went 
to  cape  Ann  by  land,  and  had  fowle  enough,  and  fowle  wether  by 
the  way;  the  Islanders  had  fish  enough,  shel-fish  and  fire  to 
roast,  and  they  could  not  perish  for  lacke  of  foode,  and  wine  they 
had  to  be  sure;  and  by  this  you  see  they  were  not  then  in  any 
want:  the  wine  and  goodes  brought  thence;  the  boat  left  ther 
so  billedgd  that  it  was  not  worth  the  labor  to  be  mended. 


OF  A  MAN  INDUED  WITH  MANY  SPETIALL  GUIFTS 
SENT  OVER  TO  BE  MASTER  OF  THE  CERE 
MONIES 

[From  "New  English  Canaan,"  Book  III,  Chap.  X] 

This  was  a  man  approoved  of  the  Brethren,  both  for  his  zeale 
and  guiftes,  yet  but  a  Bubble,  and  at  the  publike  Chardge  conveyed 
to  New  England,  I  thinke  to  be  Master  of  the  Ceremonies  betweene 
the  Natives,  and  the  Planters :  for  hee  applied  himselfe  cheifly  to 
pen  the  language  downe  in  Stenography :  But  there  for  want  of 
use,  which  hee  rightly  understood  not,  all  was  losse  of  labor ;  some- 
thinge  it  was  when  next  it  came  to  view,  but  what  hee  could  not 
tell. 

This  man,  Master  Bubble,  was  in  the  time  of  John  Oldams 
absence  made  the  howse  Chaplaine  there,  and  every  night  hee 
made  use  of  his  guifts,  whose  oratory  luld  his  auditory  fast  a  sleepe, 
as  Mercuries  pipes  did  Argus  eies :  for,  when  hee  was  in,  they  sayd 
hee  could  not  tell  how  to  get  out;  nay,  hee  would  hardly  out  till 
hee  were  fired  out,  his  zeale  was  such:  (one  fire  they  say  drives 


66  EARLY  AMERICAN   WRITERS 

out  another) :  hee  would  become  a  great  Merchant,  and  by  any 
thinge  that  was  to  be  sold  so  as  hee  might  have  day  and  be  trusted 
never  so  litle  time :  the  price  it  seemed  hee  stood  not  much  upon, 
but  the  day :  for  to  his  freind  he  shewed  commodities,  so  priced 
as  caused  him  to  blame  the  buyer,  till  the  man  this  Bubble  did 
declare  that  it  was  tane  up  at  day,  and  did  rejoyce  in  the  bargaine, 
insistinge  on  the  day;  the  day,  yea,  marry,  quoth  his  friend,  if 
you  have  doomesday  for  payment  you  are  then  well  to  passe.  But 
if  he  had  not,  it  were  as  good  hee  had;  they  were  payed  all  alike. 

And  now  this  Bubbles  day  is  become  a  common  proverbe.  Hee 
obtained  howse  roome  at  Passonagessit  and  remooved  thether, 
because  it  stood  convenient  for  the  Beaver  trade :  and  the  rather 
because  the  owner  of  Passonagessit  had  no  Corne  left,  and  this 
man  seemed  a  bigg  boned  man,  and  therefore  thought  to  be  a  good 
laborer,  and  to  have  store  of  corne;  but,  contrary  wise,  hee  had 
none  at  all,  and  hoped  upon  this  freind  his  host:  thithere  were 
brought  the  trophies  of  this  Master  Bubbles  honor,  his  water 
tankard  and. his  Porters  basket,  but  no  provision;  so  that  one 
gunne  did  serve  to  helpe  them  both  to  meat;  and  now  the  time 
for  fowle  was  almost  past. 

This  man  and  his  host  at  dinner,  Bubble  begins  to  say  grace; 
yea,  and  a  long  one  to,  till  all  the  meate  was  cold;  hee  would  not 
give  his  host  leave  to  say  grace :  belike,  hee  thought  mine  host  past 
grace,  and  further  learned  as  many  other  Schollers  are :  but  in  the 
usage  and  custom  of  this  blinde  oratory  his  host  tooke  himselfe 
abused,  and  the  whiles  fell  to  and  had  halfe  done  before  this  man 
Bubble  would  open  his  eies  to  see  what  stood  afore  him,  which 
made  him  more  cautius,  and  learned  that  brevis  oratio  penetrat 
Ccdum.  Together  Bubbles  and  hee  goes  in  the  Canaw  to  Nut 
Island  for  brants,  and  there  his  host  makes  a  shotte  and  breakes 
the  winges  of  many :  Bubble,  in  hast  and  single  handed,  paddels 
out  like  a  Cow  in  a  cage :  his  host  cals  back  to  rowe  two  handed 
like  to  a  pare  of  oares;  and,  before  this  could  be  performed,  the 
fowle  had  time  to  swimme  to  other  flockes,  and  so  to  escape :  the 
best  part  of  the  pray  being  lost  mayd  his  host  to  mutter  at  him,  and 
so  to  parte  for  that  time  discontended. 


THOMAS  MORTON  67 


OF  A  GREAT  MONSTER  SUPPOSED  TO  BE  AT  MA-RE 
MOUNT;  AND  THE  PREPARATION  MADE  TO 
DESTROY  IT 

[From  "  New  English  Canaan,"  Book  III,  Chap.  XV] 

The  Seperatists,  envying  the  prosperity  and  hope  of  the  Planta 
tion  at  Ma-re  Mount,  (which  they  perceaved  beganne  to  come 
forward,  and  to  be  in  a  good  way  for  gaine  in  the  Beaver  trade,) 
conspired  together  against  mine  Host  especially,  (who  was  the 
owner  of  that  Plantation,)  and  made  up  a  party  against  him;  and 
mustred  up  what  aide  they  could,  accounting  of  him  as  of  a  great 
Monster. 

Many  threatening  speeches  were  given  out  both  against  his 
person  and  his  Habitation,  which  they  divulged  should  be  con 
sumed  with  fire :  And  taking  advantage  of  the  time  when  his  com 
pany,  (which  seemed  little  to  regard  theire  threats,)  were  gone  up 
into  the  Inlands  to  trade  with  the  Salvages  for  Beaver,  they  set 
upon  my  honest  host  at  a  place  called  Wessaguscus,  where,  by 
accident,  they  found  him.  The  inhabitants  there  were  in  good 
hope  of  the  subvertion  of  the  plantation  at  Mare  Mount,  (which 
they  principally  aymed  at ;)  and  the  rather  because  mine  host  was 
a  man  that  indeavoured  to  advaunce  the  dignity  of  the  Church  of 
England;  which  they,  (on  the  contrary  part,)  would  laboure  to 
vilifie  with  uncivile  termes:  enveying  against  the  sacred  booke  of 
common  prayer,  and  mine  host  that  used  it  in  a  laudable  manner 
amongst  his  family,  as  a  practise  of  piety. 

There  hee  would  be  a  meanes  to  bring  sacks  to  their  mill,  (such 
is  the  thirst  after  Beaver,)  and  helped  the  conspiratores  to  surprise 
mine  host,  (who  was  there  all  alone;)  and  they  chargded  him, 
(because  they  would  seeme  to  have  some  reasonable  cause  against 
him  to  sett  a  glosse  upon  their  mallice,)  with  criminall  things; 
which  indeede  had  beene  done  by  such  a  person,  but  was  of  their 
conspiracy ;  mine  host  demaunded  of  the  conspirators  who  it  was 
that  was  author  of  that  information,  that  seemed  to  be  their  ground 
for  what  they  now  intended.  And  because  they  answered  they 
would  not  tell  him,  hee  as  peremptorily  replyed,  that  hee  would  not 
say  whether  he  had,  or  he  had  not  done  as  they  had  bin  informed. 


68  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

The  answere  made  no  matter,  (as  it  seemed,)  whether  it  had  bin 
negatively  or  affirmatively  made;  for  they  had  resolved  that  hee 
should  suffer,  because,  (as  they  boasted,)  they  were  now  become 
the  greater  number :  they  had  shaked  of  their  shackles  of  servitude, 
and  were  become  Masters,  and  masteries  people. 

It  appeares  they  were  like  beares  whelpes  in  former  time,  when 
mine  hosts  plantation  was  of  as  much  strength  as  theirs,  but  now, 
(theirs  being  stronger,)  they,  (like  overgrowne  beares,)  seemed 
monsterous.  In'breife,  mine  host  must  indure  to  be  their  prisoner 
untill  they  could  contrive  it  so  that  they  might  send  him  for  Eng 
land,  (as  they  said,)  there  to  suffer  according  to  the  merrit  of  the 
fact  which  they  intended  to  father  upon  him ;  supposing,  (belike,) 
it  would  proove  a  hainous  crime. 

Much  rejoycing  was  made  that  they  had  gotten  their  capitall 
enemy,  (as  they  concluded  him ;)  whome  they  purposed  to  hamper 
in  such  sort  that  hee  should  not  be  able  to  uphold  his  plantation  at 
Ma-re  Mount. 

The  Conspirators  sported  themselves  at  my  honest  host,  that 
meant  them  no  hurt,  and  were  so  joccund  that  they  feasted  their 
bodies,  and  fell  to  tippeling  as  if  they  had  obtained  a  great  prize ; 
like  the  Trojans  when  they  had  the  custody  of  Hippeus  pinetree 
horse. 

Mine  host  fained  greefe,  and  could  not  be  perswaded  either  to 
eate  or  drinke ;  because  hee  knew  emptines  would  be  a  meanes  to 
make  him  as  watchf  ull  as  the  Geese  kept  in  the  Roman  Cappitall : 
whereon,  the  contrary  part,  the  conspirators  would  be  so  drowsy 
that  hee  might  have  an  opportunity  to  give  them  a  slip,  insteade 
of  a  tester.  Six  persons  of  the  conspiracy  were  set  to  watch  him 
at  Wessaguscus:  But  hee  kept  waking;  and  in  the  dead  of  night, 
(one  lying  on  the  bed  for  further  suerty,)  up  gets  mine  Host  and 
got  to  the  second  dore  that  hee  was  to  passe,  which,  notwithstand 
ing  the  lock,  hee  got  open,  and  shut  it  after  him  with  such  vio 
lence  that  it  affrighted  some  of  the  conspirators. 

The  word,  which  was  given  with  an  alarme,  was,  6  he's  gon,  he's 
gon,  what  shall  wee  doe,  he's  gon!  The  rest,  (halfe  a  sleepe,) 
start  up  in  a  maze,  and,  like  rames,  ran  theire  heads  one  at  another 
full  butt  in  the  darke. 

Theire  grande  leader,  Captaiije  Shrimp,  tooke  on  most  furiously 


THOMAS  MORTON  69 

and  tore  his  clothes  for  anger,  to  see  the  empty  nest,  and  their  bird 
gone. 

The  rest  were  eager  to  have  torne  theire  haire  from  theire  heads ; 
but  it  was  so  short  that  it  would  give  them  no  hold.  Now  Captaine 
Shrimp  thought  in  the  losse  of  this  prize,  (which  hee  accoumpted 
his  Master  peece,)  all  his  honor  would  be  lost  for  ever. 

In  the  meane  time  mine  Host  was  got  home  to  Ma-re  Mount 
through  the  woods,  eight  miles  round  about  the  head  of  the  river 
Monatoquit  that  parted  the  two  Plantations,  finding  his  way  by 
the  helpe  of  the  lightening,  (for  it  thundred  as  hee  went  terribly;) 
and  there  hee  prepared  powther,  three  pounds  dried,  for  his  present 
imployement,  and  foure  good  gunnes  for  him  and  the  two  assist 
ants  left  at  his  howse,  with  bullets  of  severall  sizes,  three  houndred 
or  thereabouts,  to  be  used  if  the  conspirators  should  pursue  him 
thether :  and  these  two  persons  promised  theire  aides  in  the  quarrell, 
and  confirmed  that  promise  with  health  in  good  rosa  solis. 

Now  Captaine  Shrimp,  the  first  Captaine  in  the  Land,  (as  hee 
supposed,)  must  doe  some  new  act  to  repaire  this  losse,  and,  to 
vindicate  his  reputation,  who  had  sustained  blemish  by  this  over 
sight,  begins  now  to  study,  how  to  repaire  or  survive  his  honor: 
in  this  manner,  callinge  of  Councell,  they  conclude. 

Hee  takes  eight  persons  more  to  him,  and,  (like  the  nine  Wor 
thies  of  New  Canaan,)  they  imbarque  with  preparation  against 
Ma-re  Mount,  where  this  Monster  of  a  man,  as  theire  phrase  was, 
had  his  denne ;  the  whole  number,  had  the  rest  not  bin  from  home, 
being  but  seaven,  would  have  given  Captaine  Shrimpe,  (a  quondam 
Drummer,)  such  a  wellcome  as  would  have  made  him  wish  for  a 
Drume  as  bigg  as  Diogenes  tubb,  that  hee  might  have  crept  into  it 
out  of  sight. 

Now  the  nine  Worthies  are  approached,  and  mine  Host  prepared : 
having  intelligence  by  a  Salvage,  that  hastened  in  love  from 
Wessaguscus  to  give  him  notice  of  their  intent. 

One  of  mine  Hosts  men  prooved  a  craven:  the  other  had 
prooved  his  wits  to  purchase  a  little  valoure,  before  mine  Host 
had  observed  his  posture. 

The  nine  worthies  comming  before  the  Denne  of  this  supposed 
Monster,  (this  seaven  headed  hydra, -as  they  termed  him,)  and 
began,  like  Don  Quixote  against  the  Windmill,  to  beate  a  parly, 


70  EARLY   AMERICAN    WRITERS 

and  to  offer  quarter,  if  mine  Host  would  yeald ;  for  they  resolved 
to  send  him  for  England ;  and  bad  him  lay  by  his  armes. 

But  hee,  (who  was  the  Sonne  of  a  Souldier,)  having  taken  up 
armes  in  his  just  defence,  replyed  that  hee  would  not  lay  by  those 
armes,  because  they  were  so  needefull  at  Sea,  if  hee  should  be 
sent  over.  Yet,  to  save  the  effusion  of  so  much  worty  bloud,  as 
would  have  issued  out  of  the  vaynes  of  these  9.  worthies  of 
New  Canaan,  if  mine  Host  should  have  played  upon  them  out 
at  his  port  holes,  (for  they  came  within  danger  like  a  flocke  of 
wild  geese,  as  if  they  had  bin  tayled  one  to  another,  as  coults  to  be 
sold  at  a  faier,)  mine  Host  was  content  to  yeelde  upon  quarter; 
and  did  capitulate  with  them  in  what  manner  it  should  be  for 
more  certainety,  because  hee  knew  what  Captaine  Shrimpe  was. 

Hee  expressed  that  no  violence  should  be  offered  to  his  person, 
none  to  his  goods,  nor  any  of  his  Howsehold :  but  that  hee  should 
have  his  armes,  and  what  els  was  requisit  for  the  voyage:  which 
theire  Herald  retornes,  it  was  agreed  upon,  and  should  be  per 
formed. 

But  mine  Host  no  sooner  had  set  open  the  dore,  and  issued  out, 
but  instantly  Captaine  Shrimpe  and  the  rest  of  the  worthies  stepped 
to  him,  layd  hold  of  his  armes,  and  had  him  downe:  and  so 
eagerly  was  every  man  bent  against  him,  (not  regarding  any  agree 
ment  made  with  such  a  carnall  man,)  that  they  fell  upon  him  as  if 
they  would  have  eaten  him :  some  of  them  were  so  violent  that  they 
would  have  a  slice  with  scabbert,  and  all  for  haste;  untill  an  old 
Souldier,  (of  the  Queenes,  as  the  Proverbe  is,)  that  was  there  by 
accident,  clapt  his  gunne  under  the  weapons,  and  sharply  rebuked 
these  worthies  for  their  unworthy  practises.  So  the  matter  was 
taken  into  more  deliberate  consideration. 

Captaine  Shrimp,  and  the  rest  of  the  nine  worthies,  made  them 
selves,  (by  this  outragious  riot,)  Masters  of  mine  Host  of  Ma-re 
Mount,  and  disposed  of  what  hee  had  at  his  plantation. 

This  they  knew,  (in  the  eye  of  the  Salvages,)  would  add  to  their 
glory,  and  diminish  the  reputation  of  mine  honest  Host;  whome 
they  practised  to  be  ridd  of  upon  any  termes,  as  willingly  as  if  hee 
had  bin  the  very  Hidra  of  the  time. 


THOMAS  MORTON  71 

HOW  THE  9.  WORTHIES  PUT  MINE  HOST  OF  MA-RE 
MOUNT  INTO  THE  INCHAUNTED  CASTLE  AT 
PLIMMOUTH,  AND  TERRIFIED  HIM  WITH  THE 
MONSTER  BRIAREUS 

[From  "New  English  Canaan,"  Book  III,  Chap.  XVI] 

The  nine  worthies  of  New  Canaan  having  now  the  Law  in  their 
owne  hands,  (there  being  no  generall  Governour  in  the  Land; 
nor  none  of  the  Seperation  that  regarded  the  duety  they  owe  their 
Soveraigne,  whose  naturall  borne  subjects  they  were,  though 
translated  out  of  Holland,  from  whence  they  had  learned  to  worke 
all  to  their  owne  ends,  and  make  a  great  shewre  of  Religion,  but 
no  humanity,)  for  they  were  now  to  sit  in  Counsell  on  the 
cause. 

And  much  it  stood  mine  honest  Host  upon  to  be  very  circum 
spect,  and  to  take  Eacus  to  taske;  for  that  his  voyce  was  more 
allowed  of  then  both  the  other:  and  had  not  mine  Host  con 
founded  all  the  arguments  that  Eacus  could  make  in  their 
defence,  and  confuted  him  that  swaied  the  rest,  they  would 
have  made  him  unable  to  drinke  in  such  manner  of  merriment 
any  more.  So  that  following  this  private  counsell,  given  him  by 
one  that  knew  who  ruled  the  rost,  the  Hiracano  ceased  that  els 
would  split  his  pinace. 

A  conclusion  wras  made  and  sentence  given  that  mine  Host 
should  be  sent  to  England  a  prisoner.  But  when  hee  was  brought 
to  the  shipps  for  that  purpose,  no  man  durst  be  so  foole  hardy  as  to 
undertake  carry  him.  So  these  Worthies  set  mine  Host  upon  an 
Island,  without  gunne,  powther,  or  shot  or  dogge  or  so  much  as  a 
knife  to  get  any  thinge  to  feede  upon,  or  any  other  cloathes  to 
shelter  him  with  at  winter  then  a  thinne  suite  which  hee  had  one  at 
that  time.  Home  hee  could  not  get  to  Ma-re  Mount.  Upon  this 
Island  hee  stayed  a  moneth  at  least,  and  was  releeved  by  Salvages 
that  tooke  notice  that  mine  Host  was  a  Sachem  of  Passonagessit, 
and  would  bringe  bottles  of  strong  liquor  to  him,  and  unite  them 
selves  into  a  league  of  brother  hood  with  mine  Host;  so  full  of 
humanity  are  these  infidels  before  those  Christians. 

From  this  place  for  England  sailed  mine  Host  in  a  Plimmouth 


72  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

shipp,  (that  came  into  the  Land  to  fish  upon  the  Coast,)  that  landed 
him  safe  in  England  at  Plimmouth:  and  hee  stayed  in  England 
untill  the  ordinary  time  for  shipping  to  set  forth  for  these  parts, 
and  then  retorned:  Noe  man  being  able  to  taxe  him  of  any 
thinge. 

But  the  Worthies,  (in  the  meane  time,)  hoped  they  had  bin  ridd 
of  him. 


'THE   BAY    PSALM   BOOK" 

[The  extreme  punctiliousness  of  the  early  New  England  Puritans  in  all 
matters  pertaining  to  worship  led  many  of  them  to  take  offence  at  the  lack 
of  literalness  in  Sternhold  and  Hopkins's  version  of  the  Psalms,  which  was 
at  first  used  in  the  churches  of  Massachusetts  Bay.  Accordingly  "the  chief 
Divines  of  the  Country  "  undertook  a  new  and  more  faithful  metrical  render 
ing.  The  greater  part  of  the  work  was  done  by  Richard  Mather,  who  prob 
ably  wrote  the  preface,  Thomas  Welde,  and  John  Eliot.  The  result  of  their 
labors  was  published  at  Cambridge,  in  1640,  and  has  the  distinction  of  being 
the  first  book  printed  in  America.  The  title-page  reads  "The  Whole  Booke 
of  Psalmes  Faithfully  Translated  into  English  Metre.  Whereunto  is  pre 
fixed  a  discourse  declaring  not  only  the  lawfullnes,  but  also  the  necessity  of 
the  heavenly  Ordinance  of  singing  Scripture  Psalmes  in  the  Churches  of 
God."  The  work  seems  always  to  have  been  known,  however,  as  "The 
Bay  Psalm  Book."  It  was  generally  used  in  New  England  churches  until 
it  was  supplanted  by  Watts's  "Psalms  and  Hymns"  in  the  middle  of  the 
eighteenth  century;  and  it  attained  some  use  in  England  and  Scotland. 

The  modern  reader  finds  it  hard  to  understand  how  our  forefathers 
could  have  endured  so  rough  and  barbarous  a  rendering  of  the  Hebrew 
poems.  It  must  be  remembered  that  the  sense  of  form  in  English  verse  was 
not  high,  as  is  shown  by  other  poetic  attempts  of  New  England  divines; 
that  extreme  reverence  for  the  Bible  blinded  Christians  to  its  literary  ex 
cellences,  so  that  they  failed  to  see  the  contrast  between  this  rendering  and 
the  sonorous  grandeur  of  the  King  James  version;  and  that  the  one  test 
imposed  on  this  work,  as  a  matter  of  sacred  principle,  was  that  of  literal 
exactness. 

The  selections  follow  the  facsimile  reprint  of  the  first  edition  edited  by 
Wilberforce  Eames  in  1903.] 

METRICAL    TRANSLATION    OF    THE     PSALMS    DE 
FENDED 

[From  the  "Preface"] 

As  for  the  scruple  that  some  take  at  the  translation  of  the  book 
of  psalmes  into  meeter,  because  Davids  psalmes  were  sung  in  his 
owne  words  without  meeter :  wee  answer  —  First.  There  are 
many  verses  together  in  several  psalmes  of  David  which  run  in 
rithmes  (as  those  that  know  the  hebrew  and  as  Buxtorf  shews 

73 


74  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

Thesau.  pa.  62.)  which  shews  at  least  the  lawfullnes  of  singing 
psalmes  in  english  rithmes. 

Secondly.  The  psalmes  are  penned  in  such  verses  as  are  sutable 
to  the  poetry  of  the  hebrew  language,  and  not  in  the  common  style 
of  such  other  bookes  of  the  old  Testament  as  are  not  poeticall; 
now  no  protestant  doubteth  but  that  all  the  bookes  of  the  scripture 
should  by  Gods  ordinance  be  extant  in  the  mother  tongue  of  each 
nation,  that  they  may  be  understood  of  all,  hence  the  psalmes  are 
to  be  translated  into  our  english  tongue :  and  if  in  our  english  tongue 
we  are  to  sing  them,  then  as  all  our  english  songs  (according  to  the 
course  of  our  english  poetry)  do  run  in  metre,  soe  ought  Davids 
psalmes  to  be  translated  into  meeter,  that  soe  wee  may  sing  the 
Lords  songs,  as  in  our  English  tongue  soe  in  such  verses  as  are 
familiar  to  an  english  eare  which  are  commonly  metricall:  and 
as  it  can  be  no  just  offence  to  any  good  conscience,  to  sing  Davids 
hebrew  songs  in  english  words,  soe  neither  to  sing  his  poeticall 
verses  in  english  poeticall  metre:  men  might  as  well  stumble  at 
singing  the  hebrew  psalmes  in  our  english  tunes  (and  not  in  the 
hebrew  tunes)  as  at  singing  them  in  english  meeter,  (which  are  our 
verses)  and  not  in  such  verses  as  are  generally  used  by  David  ac 
cording  to  the  poetry  of  the  hebrew  language:  but  the  truth  is, 
as  the  Lord  hath  hid  from  us  the  hebrew  tunes,  lest  wee  should 
think  our  selves  bound  to  imitate  them;  soe  also  the  course  and 
frame  (for  the  most  part)  of  their  hebrew  poetry,  that  wee  might  not 
think  our  selves  bound  to  imitate  that,  but  that  every  nation  without 
scruple  might  follow  as  the  grave  sort  of  tunes  of  their  owne  country 
songs,  soe  the  graver  sort  of  verses  of  their  owne  country  poetry. 

Neither  let  any  think,  that  for  the  meetre  sake  wee  have  taken 
liberty  or  poeticall  license  to  depart  from  the  true  and  proper  sence 
of  Davids  words  in  the  hebrew  verses,  noe ;  but  it  hath  beene  one 
part  of  our  religious  care  and  faithfull  indeavour,  to  keepe  close 
to  the  originall  text. 

As  for  other  objections  taken  from  the  difficulty  of  Ainsworths 
tunes,  and  the  corruptions  in  our  common  psalme  books,  wee  hope 
they  are  answered  in  this  new  edition  of  psalmes  which  wee  here 
present  to  God  and  his  Churches.  For  although  wee  have  cause 
to  blesse  God  in  many  respects  for  the  religious  indeavours  of  the 
translaters  of  the  psalmes  into  meetre  usually  annexed  to  our 


THE  BAY  PSALM   BOOK 


75 


Bibles,  yet  it  is  not  unknowne  to  the  godly  learned  that  they  have 
rather  presented  a  paraphrase  then  the  words  of  David  translated 
according  to  the  rule  2  chron.  29.  30.  and  that  their  addition  to 
the  words,  detractions  from  the  words  are  not  seldome  and  rare, 
but  very  frequent  and  many  times  needles,  (which  wee  suppose 
would  not  be  approved  of  if  the  psalmes  were  so  translated  into 
prose)  and  that  their  variations  of  the  sense,  and  alterations  of  the 
sacred  text  too  frequently,  may  justly  minister  matter  of  offence  to 
them  that  are  able  to  compare  the  translation  with  the  text;  of 
which  failings,  some  judicious  have  oft  complained,  others  have 
been  grieved,  whereupon  it  hath  bin  generally  desired,  that  as  wee 
doe  injoye  other,  soe  (if  it  were  the  Lords  will)  wee  might  injoye 
this  ordinance  also  in  its  native  purity:  wee  have  therefore  done 
our  indeavour  to  make  a  plaine  and  familiar  translation  of  the 
psalmes  and  words  of  David  into  english  metre,  and  have  not  soe 
much  as  presumed  to  paraphrase  to  give  the  sense  of  his  meaning 
in  other  words;  we  have  therefore  attended  heerin  as  our  chief 
guide  the  originall,  shunning  all  additions,  except  such  as  even  the 
best  translators  of  them  in  prose  supply,  avoiding  all  materiall 
detractions  from  words  or  sence.  The  word  *p  which  wee  translate 
and  as  it  is  redundant  sometime  in  the  Hebrew,  soe  somtime 
(though  not  very  often)  it  hath  been  left  out  and  yet  not  then,  if 
the  sence  were  not  faire  without  it. 

As  for  our  translations,  wee  have  with  our  english  Bibles  (to 
which  next  to  the  Originall  wee  have  had  respect)  used  the  Idioms 
of  our  owne  tongue  in  stead  of  Hebraismes,  lest  they  might  seeme 
english  barbarismes. 

Synonimaes  wee  use  indifferently:  as/0/&  for  people,  and  Lord 
for  Jehovah,  and  sometime  (though  seldome)  God  for  Jehovah; 
for  which  (as  for  some  other  interpretations  of  places  cited  in  the 
new  Testament)  we  have  the  scriptures  authority  ps.  14.  with  53. 
Heb.  i.  6.  with  psalme  97.  7.  Where  a  phrase  is  doubtfull  wee 
have  followed  that  which  (in  our  owne  apprehension)  is  most 
genuine  &  edifying: 

Somtime  wree  have  contracted,  somtime  dilated  the  same  hebrew 
word,  both  for  the  sence  and  the  verse  sake :  which  dilatation  wee 
conceive  to  be  no  paraphrasticall  addition  no  more  then  the  con 
traction  of  a  true  and  full  translation  to  be  any  unfaithfull  detrac- 


76  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

tion  or  diminution :  as  when  wee  dilate  who  healeth  and  say  he  it 
is  who  healeth;  soe  when  wee  contract,  those  that  stand  in  awe  of 
God  and  say  Gods  fearers. 

Lastly.  Because  some  hebrew  words  have  a  more  full  and 
emphaticall  signification  then  any  one  english  word  can  or  doth 
somtime  expresse,  hence  wee  have  done  that  somtime  which 
faithfull  translators  may  doe,  viz.  not  only  to  translate  the  word  but 
the  emphasis  of  it;  as  *]&  mighty  God  for  God.  ^"O  humbly 
blesse  for  blesse;  rise  to  stand,  psalm  i.  for  stand  truth  and  faith- 
fullnes  for  truth.  Howbeit,  for  the  verse  sake  wee  doe  not  alway 
thus,  yet  wee  render  the  word  truly  though  not  fully ;  as  when  wee 
somtime  say  re  Joyce  for  shout  for  joye. 

As  for  all  other  changes  of  numbers,  tenses,  and  characters  of 
speech,  they  are  either  such  as  the  hebrew  will  unforcedly  beare, 
or  our  english  f orceably  calls  for,  or  they  no  way  change  the  sence ; 
and  such  are  printed  usually  in  an  other  character. 

If  therefore  the  verses  are  not  alwayes  so  smooth  and  elegant 
as  some  may  desire  or  expect ;  let  them  consider  that  Gods  Altar 
needs  not  our  pollishings :  Ex.  20.  for  wee  have  respected  rather  a 
plaine  translation,  then  to  smooth  our  verses  with  the  sweetnes  of 
any  paraphrase,  and  soe  have  attended  Conscience  rather  than 
Elegance,  fidelity  rather  then  poetry,  in  translating  the  hebrew 
words  into  english  language,  and  Davids  poetry  into  english 
meetre;  that  soe  wee  may  sing  in  Sion  the  Lords  songs  of  prayse 
according  to  his  owne  will;  untill  hee  take  us  from  hence  and 
wipe  away  all  our  teares,  &  bid  us  enter  into  our  masters  joye 
to  sing  eternall  Halleluliahs. 

PSALME    i 

O  Blessed  man,  that  in  th'  advice 

of  wicked  doeth  not  walk; 
nor  stand  in  sinners  way,  nor  sit 

in  chayre  of  scornfull  folk, 
2  But  in  the  law  of  Jehovah, 

is  his  longing  delight: 
and  in  his  law  doth  meditate, 

by  day  and  eke  by  night. 


"THE   BAY  PSALM   BOOK"  77 

3  And  he  shall  be  like  to  a  tree 

planted  by  water-rivers: 
that  in  his  season  yeilds  his  fruit, 
and  his  leafe  never  withers. 

4  And  all  he  doth,  shall  prosper  well, 

the  wicked  are  not  so: 
but  they  are  like  unto  the  chaffe, 
which  winde  drives  to  and  fro. 

5  Therefore  shall  not  ungodly  men, 

rise  to  stand  in  the  doome, 
nor  shall  the  sinners  with  the  just, 
in  their  assemblie  come. 

6  For  of  the  righteous  men,  the  Lord 

acknowledgeth  the  way: 
but  the  way  of  ungodly  men, 
shall  utterly  decay. 


PSALME    19 

The  heavens  doe  declare 

the  majesty  of  God: 
also  the  firmament  shews  forth 

his  handy-work  abroad. 

2  Day  speaks  to  day,  knowledge 

night  hath  to  night  declared. 

3  There  neither  speach  nor  language  is, 

where  their  voyce  is  not  heard. 

4  Through  all  the  earth  their  line 

is  gone  forth,  &  unto 
the  utmost  end  of  all  the  world, 

their  speaches  reach  also: 
A  Tabernacle  hee 

in  them  pitcht  for  the  Sun. 

5  Who  Bridegroom  like  from's  chamber  goes 

glad  Giants-race  to  run. 

6  From  heavens  utmost  end, 

his  course  and  compassing; 


78  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

to  ends  of  it,  &  from  the  heat 
thereof  is  hid  nothing. 


7  The  Lords  law  perfect  is, 

the  soule  converting  back: 
Gods  testimony  faithfull  is, 
makes  wise  who-wisdome-lack. 

8  The  statutes  of  the  Lord, 

are  right,  &  glad  the  heart : 
the  Lords  commandement  is  pure, 
light  doth  to  eyes  impart. 

9  Jehovahs  feare  is  cleane, 

and  doth  indure  for  ever: 
the  judgements  of  the  Lord  are  true, 
and  righteous  altogether. 

10  Then  gold,  then  much  fine  gold, 

more  to  be  prized  are, 
then  hony,   &  the  hony-comb, 
sweeter  they  are  by  farre. 

11  Also  thy  servant  is 

admonished  from  hence: 
and  in  the  keeping  of  the  same 
is  a  full  recompence. 

12  Who  can  his  errors  know? 

from  secret  faults  cleanse  mee. 

13  And  from  presumptuous-sins,  let  thou 

kept  back  thy  servant  bee: 
Let  them  not  beare  the  rule 

in  me,  &  then  shall  I 
be  perfect,  and  shall  cleansed  bee 

from  mVich  iniquity. 

14  Let  the  words  of  my  mouth, 

and  the  thoughts  of  my  heart, 
be  pleasing  with  thee,  Lord,  my  Rock 
who  my  redeemer  art. 


"THE   BAY  PSALM   BOOK"  79 

23     A  PSALME  OF  DAVID 

The  Lord  to  mee  a  shepheard  is, 
want  therefore  shall  not  I. 

2  Hee  in  the  folds  of  tender-grasse, 

doth  cause  mee  downe  to  lie: 
To  waters  calme  me  gently  leads 

3  Restore  my  soule  doth  hee: 

he  doth  in  paths  of  righteousnes : 
for  his  names  sake  leade  mee. 

4  Yea  though  in  valley  of  deaths  shade 

I  walk,  none  ill  Fie  feare: 
because  thou  are  with  mee,  thy  rod, 
and  staffe  my  comfort  are. 

5  For  mee  a  table  thou  hast  spread, 

in  presence  of  my  foes : 
thou  dost  annoynt  my  head  with  oyle, 
my  cup  it  over-flowes. 

6  Goodnes  &  mercy  surely  shall 

all  my  dayes  follow  mee: 
and  in  the  Lords  house  I  shall  dwell 
so  long  as  dayes  shall  bee. 

PSALME    95 

O  Come,  let  us  unto  the  Lord 

shout  loud  with  singing  voyce. 
to  the  rock  of  our  saving  health 

let  us  make  joyfull  noyse. 

2  Before  his  presence  let  us  then 

approach  with  thanksgiving: 
also  let  us  triumphantly 

with  Psalmes  unto  him  sing. 

3  For  the  Lord  a  great  God:  &  great 

King  above  all  gods  is. 

4  In  whose  hands  are  deepes  of  the  earth, 

&  strength  of  hills  are  his 


80  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

5  The  sea  to  him  doth  appertaine, 

also  he  made  the  same: 
&  also  the  drye  land  is  his 
for  it  his  hands  did  frame. 

6  O  come,  &  let  us  worship  give. 

&  bowing  downe  adore: 
he  that  our  maker  is,  the  Lord 
o  let  us  kneele  before. 

7  Because  hee  is  our  God,  &  wee 

his  pasture  people  are, 
&  of  his  hands  the  sheep :   today 
if  yee  his  voyce  will  heare, 

8  As  in  the  provocation, 

o  harden  not  your  heart: 
as  in  day  of  temptation, 
within  the  vast  desart. 

9  When  mee  your  fathers  tryde,   &  prov'd, 

&  my  works  lookt  upon: 

10  Fourty  yeares  long  I  griev'd  was  with 

this  generation: 

And  sayd,  this  people  erre  in  heart: 
my  wayes  they  doe  not  know. 

1 1  To  whom  I  sware  in  wrath :   if  they 

into  my  rest  should  goe. 


PSALME   100 

Make  yee  a  joyfull  sounding  noyse 
unto  Jehovah,  all  the  earth: 

2  Serve  yee  Jehovah  with  gladnes : 
before  his  presence  come  with  mirth. 

3  Know,  that  Jehovah  he  is  God, 
who  hath  us  formed  it  is  hee, 

&  not  ourselves:   his  owne  people 
&  sheepe  of  his  pasture  are  wee. 

4  Enter  into  his  gates  with  prayse, 
into  his  Courts  with  thankf ullnes : 


"THE  BAY  PSALM   BOOK"  8l 

make  yee  confession  unto  him, 
&  his  name  reverently  blesse. 
5          Because  Jehovah  he  is  good, 
for  evermore  is  his  mercy: 
&  unto  generations  all 
continue  doth  his  verity. 

PSALME   121 

1  I  to  the  hills  lift  up  mine  eyes, 

from  whence  shall  come  mine  aid 

2  Mine  help  doth  from  Jehovah  come, 

which  heav'n  &  earth  hath  made. 

3  Hee  will  not  let  thy  foot  be  mov'd, 

nor  slumber;    that  thee  keeps. 

4  Loe  hee  that  keepeth  Israeli, 

hee  slumbreth  not,  nor  sleeps. 

5  The  Lord  thy  keeper  is,  the  Lord 

on  thy  right  hand  the  shade. 

6  The  Sun  by  day,  nor  Moone  by  night, 

shall  thee  by  stroke  invade. 

7  The  Lord  will  keep  the  from  all  ill: 

thy  soule  hee  keeps  alway, 

8  Thy  going  out,  &  thy  income, 

the  Lord  keeps  now  &  aye. 


JOHN    COTTON 

[John  Cotton,  perhaps  the  most  famous  in  his  day  of  the  early  New  Eng 
land  ministers,  was  born  in  1585.  He  was  educated  at  Cambridge,  where 
he  first  entered  Trinity  College,  and  afterward  became  a  fellow  of  Emanuel. 
Here  he  became  a  Puritan,  and  when,  later,  he  settled  as  minister  of  a  congre 
gation  in  Boston,  Lincolnshire,  he  refused  to  conform  to  parts  of  the  Church 
ritual.  His  influence  was  such,  however,  that  he  held  his  pastorate  for  over 
twenty  years,  and  became  famous  among  Puritans  everywhere.  It  was  in 
honor  of  the  town  in  which  he  ministered  that  the  new  Boston  was  named. 
When  he  was  finally  ousted  by  Archbishop  Laud,  he  fled  to  America.  From 
his  arrival  in  1633  to  his  death  in  1652  he  was  connected,  as  teacher  and 
pastor,  with  the  First  Church  of  Boston. 

John  Cotton  was  a  profound  and  diligent  student,  and  a  voluminous 
writer,  though  to  the  reader  of  to-day  his  writings  seem  less  interesting  and 
less  valuable  than  those  of  many  of  his  contemporaries.  He  was  the  author 
of  the  classic  catechism,  "Milk  for  Boston  Babes,"  l  and  of  many  sermons 
and  controversial  writings.  One  of  the  most  interesting  controversies  in 
which  he  was  engaged  was  that  with  Roger  Williams  respecting  persecution 
for  cause  of  conscience.  Something  of  his  method  in  this  discussion  may  be 
inferred  from  the  selection  from  Williams's  reply  on  a  later  page. 

The  first  of  the  following  selections  is  from  a  sermon  delivered  at  South 
ampton  before  Winthrop's  expedition,  some  three  years  before  his  own  emi 
gration.  The  text  follows  the  reprint  in  Old  South  Leaflets,  Number  53. 
The  second  selection,  from  "The  Way  of  Congregational  Churches  cleared," 
Cotton's  famous  defence  of  the  policy  and  method  of  New  England  Congre- 
gationalists,  follows  the  reprint  in  the  publications  of  the  Prince  Society, 
edited  by  Charles  Francis  Adams.  The  subject  of  this  selection  is  of  interest 
because  Mrs.  Hutchinson  had  placed  Cotton  in  an  embarrassing  position  by 
praising  him  above  the  other  ministers.  The  third  selection  is  the  first  part 
of  a  letter  to  Roger  Williams,  printed  in  London  in  1643,  but  written  some 
years  earlier.  The  text  is  that  of  the  reprint  in  the  Publications  of  the 
Narragansett  Club,  1866.] 

1  The  full  title  is  "  Milk  for  Babes,  drawn  out  of  the  Breasts  of  both  Testa 
ments,  chiefly  for  the  Spiritual  Nourishment  of  Boston  Babes  in  either  England, 
but  may  be  of  use  for  any  Children." 


82 


JOHN  COTTON  83 

4 

GOD'S    PROMISE    TO    HIS    PLANTATIONS 

[From  a  sermon,  "  God's  Promise  to  his  Plantations"] 

The  placing  of  a  people  in  this  or  that  Coimtrey  is  from  the  ap 
pointment  of  the  Lord. 

This  is  evident  in  the  Text,1  and  the  Apostle  speakes  of  it  as 
grounded  in  nature,  Acts  17.  26.  God  hath  determined  the  times 
before  appointed,  and  the  bounds  of  our  habitation.  Dut.  2  chap. 
5.  9.  God  would  not  have  the  Israelites  meddle  with  the  Edom- 
iteSj  or  the  Moabites,  because  he  had  given  them  their  land  for  a 
possession.  God  assigned  out  such  a  land  for  such  a  posterity, 
and  for  such  a  time. 

Quest.  Wherein  doth  this  worke  of  God  stand  in  appointing  a 
place  for  a  people  ? 

Answ.  First,  when  God  espies  or  discovers  a  land  for  a  people, 
as  in  Ezek.  20.  6.  he  brought  them  into  a  land  that  he  had  espied  for 
them :  And  that  is,  when  either  he  gives  them  to  discover  it  them 
selves,  or  heare  of  it  discovered  by  others,  and  fitting  them. 

Secondly,  after  he  hath  espied  it,  when  he  carrieth  them  along 
to  it,  so  that  they  plainly  see  a  providence  of  God  leading  them 
from  one  Country  to  another:  As  in  Exod.  19.  4.  You  have  seen  e 
how  I  have  borne  you  as  on  Eagles  wings,  and  brought  you  unto  my 
selfe.  So  that  though  they  met  with  many  difficulties,  yet  hee 
carried  them  high  above  them  all,  like  an  eagle,  flying  over  seas 
and  rockes,  and  all  hindrances. 

Thirdly,  when  he  makes  roome  for  a  people  to  dwell  there,  as  in 
Psal.  80.  9.  Thou  preparedst  roome  for  them.  "When  Isaac  so 
journed  among  the  Philistines,  he  digged  one  well,  and  the  Philis 
tines  strove  for  it,  and  he  called  it  Esek.  and  he  digged  another  well, 
and  for  that  they  strove  also,  therefore  he  called  it  Sitnah:  and 
he  removed  thence,  and  digged  an  other  well,  and  for  that  they 
strove  not,  and  he  called  it  Rohoboth,  and  said,  For  now  the  Lord 
hath  made  roomeefor  us,  and  we  shall  befruitfull  in  the  Land.  Now 
no  Esek,  no  Sitnah,  no  quarrel  or  contention,  but  now  he  sitsdowne 
in  Rohoboth  in  a  peaceable  roome. 

Now  God  makes  room  for  a  people  3  wayes: 

1  [2  Sam.  vii,  ro.l 


84  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

First,  when  he  casts  out  the  enemies  of  a  people  before  them  by 
lawfull  warre  with  the  inhabitants,  which  God  cals  them  unto :  as 
in  Ps.  44.  2.  Thou  didst  drive  out  the  heathen  before  them.  But 
this  course  of  warring  against  others,  &  driving  them  out  without 
provocation,  depends  upon  speciall  Commission  from  God,  or 
else  it  is  not  imitable. 

Secondly,  when  he  gives  a  forraigne  people  favour  in  the  eyes 
of  any  native  people  to  come  and  sit  downe  with  them  either  by 
way  of  purchase,  as  Abraham  did  obtaine  the  field  of  Machpelah; 
or  else  when  they  give  it  in  courtesie,  as  Pharaoh  did  the  land  of 
Goshen  unto  the  sons  of  Jacob. 

Thirdly,  when  hee  makes  a  Countrey  though  not  altogether  void 
of  inhabitants,  yet  voyd  in  that  place  where  they  reside.  Where 
there  is  a  vacant  place,  there  is  liberty  for  the  sonne  of  A  dam  or 
Noah  to  come  and  inhabite,  though  they  neither  buy  it,  nor  aske 
their  leaves.  Abraham  and  Isaac,  when  they  sojourned  *  amongst 
the  Philistines,  they  did  not  buy  that  land  to  feede  their  cattle, 
because  they  said  There  is  roome  enough.  And  so  did  Jacob 
pitch  his  tent  by  Sechem,  Gen.  34.  21.  There  was  roome  enough 
as  Hamor  said,  Let  them  sit  down  amongst  us.  And  in  this  case  if 
the  people  who  were  former  inhabitants  did  disturbe  them  in  their 
possessions,  they  complained  to  the  King,  as  of  wrong  done  unto 
them:  As  Abraham  did  because  they  took  away  his  well,  in  Gen. 
21,  25.  For  his  right  whereto  he  pleaded  not  his  immediate  calling 
from  God,  (for  that  would  have  seemed  frivolous  amongst  the 
Heathen)  but  his  owne  industry  and  culture  in  digging  the  well, 
verse  30.  Nor  doth  the  King  reject  his  plea,  with  what  had  he  to 
doe  to  digge  wells  in  their  soyle  ?  but  admitteth  it  as  a  Principle  in 
Nature,  That  in  a  vacant  soyle,  hee  that  taketh  possession  of  it, 
and  bestoweth  culture  and  husbandry  upon  it,  his  Right  it  is. 
And  the  ground  of  this  is  from  the  grand  Charter  given  to  Adam 
and  his  posterity  in  Paradise,  Gen.  i.  28.  Multiply,  and  replenish 
the  earth ,  and  subdue  it.  If  therefore  any  sonne  of  Adam  come  and 

1  This  sojourning  was  a  constant  residence  there,  as  in  a  possession  of  their 
owne;  although  it  be  called  sojourning  or  dwelling  as  strangers,  because  they 
neither  had  the  soveraigne  government  of  the  whole  Countrey  in  their  owne  hand, 
nor  yet  did  incorporate  themselves  into  the  Commonwealth  of  the  Natives,  to 
submit  themselves  unto  their  government. 


JOHN   COTTON  85 

finde  a  place  empty,  he  hath  liberty  to  come,  and  fill,  and  subdue 
the  earth  there.  This  Charter  was  renewed  to  Noah,  Gen.  9.  i. 
Fulfill  the  earth  and  multiply:  So  that  it  is  free  from  that  comon 
Grant  for  any  to  take  possession  of  vacant  Countries.  Indeed  no 
Nation  is  to  drive  out  another  without  speciall  Commission  from 
heaven,  such  as  the  Israelites  had,  unless  the  Natives  do  un 
justly  wrong  them,  and  will  not  recompence  the  wrongs  done  in 
peaceable  sort,  &  then  they  may  right  themselves  by  lawfull  war, 
and  subdue  the  Countrey  unto  themselves. 

This  placeing  of  people  in  this  or  that  Countrey,  is  from  Gods 
soveraignty  over  all  the  earth,  and  the  inhabitants  thereof:  as  in 
Psal.  24.  i  The  earth  is  the  Lords,  and  thefulnesse  thereof.  And  in 
Jer.  10.  7.  God  is  there  called,  The  King  of  'Nations:  and  in 
Dent.  10.  14.  Therefore  it  is  meete  he  should  provide  a  place  for 
all  Nations  to  inhabite,  and  have  all  the  earth  replenished.  Onely 
in  the  Text  here  is  meant  some  more  speciall  appointment,  because 
God  tells  them  it  by  his  owne  mouth ;  he  doth  not  so  with  other 
people,  he  doth  not  tell  the  children  of  Sier,  that  hee  hath  appointed 
a  place  for  them :  that  is,  He  gives  them  the  land  by  promise ; 
others  take  the  land  by  his  providence,  but  Gods  people  take  the 
land  by  promise:  And  therefore  the  land  of  Canaan  is  called  a 
land  of  promise.  Which  they  discerne,  first,  by  discerning  them 
selves  to  be  in  Christ,  in  whom  all  the  promises  are  yea,  and  amen. 

Secondly,  by  finding  his  holy  presence  with  them,  to  wit,  when 
he  plants  them  in  the  holy  Mountaine  of  his  Inheritance :  Exodus. 
15.  17.  And  that  is  when  he  giveth  them  the  liberty  and  purity 
of  his  Ordinances.  It  is  a  land  of  promise,  where  they  have  pro 
vision  for  soule  as  well  as  for  body.  Ruth  dwelt  well  for  outward 
respects  while  shee  dwelt  in  Moab,  but  when  shee  cometh  to  dwell 
in  Israel,  shee  is  said  to  come  under  the  wings  of  God:  Ruth  2.  12. 
When  God  wrappes  us  in  with  his  Ordinances,  and  wrarmes  us 
with  the  life  and  power  of  them  as  with  wings,  there  is  a  land  of 
promise. 

This  may  teach  us  all  where  we  doe  now  dwell,  or  where  after 
wee  may  dwell,  be  sure  you  looke  at  every  place  appointed  to  you, 
from  the  hand  of  God:  wee  may  not  rush  into  any  place,  and 
never  say  to  God,  By  your  leave ;  but  we  must  discerne  how  God 
appoints  us  this  place.  There  is  poore  comfort  in  sitting  down 


86  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

in  any  place,  that  you  cannot  say,  This  place  is  appointed  me  of 
God.  Canst  thou  say  that  God  spied  out  this  place  for  thee,  and 
there  hath  setled  thee  above  all  hinderances?  didst  thou  finde 
that  God  made  roome  for  thee  either  by  lawfull  descent,  or  pur 
chase,  or  gift,  or  other  warrantable  right?  Why  then  this  is  the 
place  God  hath  appointed  thee;  here  hee  hath  made  roome  for 
thee,  he  hath  placed  thee  in  RehoboiJi,  in  a  peaceable  place:  This 
we  must  discerne,  or  els  we  are  but  intruders  upon  God.  And 
when  wee  doe  withall  discerne,  that  God  giveth  us  these  outward 
blessings  from  his  love  in  Christ,  and  maketh  comfortable  provi 
sion  as  well  for  our  soule  as  for  our  bodies,  by  the  meanes  of  grace, 
then  doe  we  enjoy  our  present  possession  as  well  by  gracious 
promise,  as  by  the  common,  and  just,  and  bountifull  providence 
of  the  Lord.  Or  if  a  man  doe  remove  he  must  see  that  God  hath 
espied  out  such  a  Countrey  for  him. 

Secondly,  though  there  be  many  difficulties  yet  he  hath  given 
us  hearts  to  overlook  them  all,  as  if  we  were  carried  upon  eagles 
wings. 

And  thirdly,  see  God  making  roome  for  us  by  some  lawfull 
means. 

Quest.  But  how  shall  I  know  whether  God  hath  appointed  me 
such  a  place,  if  I  be  well  where  I  am,  what  may  warrant  my 
re  move  all  ? 

Answ.  There  be  foure  or  five  good  things,  for  procurement  of 
any  of  which  I  may  remove.  Secondly,  there  be  some  evill 
things,  for  avoiding  of  any  of  which  wee  may  transplant  our 
selves.  Thirdly,  if  withall  we  find  some  speciall  providence  of 
God  concurring  in  either  of  both  concerning  our  selves,  and  apply 
ing  general  grounds  of  removall  to  our  personall  estate. 

First,  wee  may  remove  for  the  gaining  of  knowledge.  Our 
Saviour  commends  it  in  the  Queene  of  the  south,  that  she  came 
from  the  utmost  parts  of  the  earth  to  heare  the  wisdom  of  Solomon: 
Matth.  12.  42.  And  surely  with  him  she  might  have  continued 
for  the  same  end,  if  her  personall  calling  had  not  recalled  her 
home. 

Secondly,  some  remove  and  travaile  for  merchandize  and  gaine- 
sake;  Daily  bread  may  be  sought  from  Jarre,  Prov.  31.  14.  Yea 
our  Saviour  appro veth  travaile  for  Merchants,  Matth.  13.  45,  46. 


JOHN  COTTON  87 

when  hee  compareth  a  Christian  to  a  Merchantman  seeking 
pearles:  For  he  never  fetcheth  a  comparison  from  any  unlawful! 
thing  to  illustrate  a  thing  lawfull.  The  comparison  from  the 
unjust  Steward,  and  from  the  Theefe  in  the  night,  is  not  taken  from 
the  injustice  of  the  one,  or  the  theft  of  the  other;  but  from  the 
wisdome  of  the  one,  and  the  sodainnesse  of  the  other;  which  in 
themselves  are  not  unlawfull. 

Thirdly,  to  plant  a  Colony,  that  is,  a  company  that  agree  to 
gether  to  remove  out  of  their  owne  Country,  and  settle  a  Citty  or 
commonwealth  elsewhere.  Of  such  a  Colony  wee  reade  in  Acts 
16.  12.  which  God  blessed  and  prospered  exceedingly,  and  made  it 
a  glorious  Church.  Nature  teacheth  Bees  to  doe  so,  when  as  the 
hive  is  too  full,  they  seeke  abroad  for  new  dwellings:  So  when 
the  hive  of  the  Common  wealth  is  so  full,  that  Tradesmen  cannot 
live  one  by  another,  but  eate  up  one  another,  in  this  case  it  is  law- 
full  to  remove. 

Fourthly,  God  alloweth  a  man  to  remove,  when  he  may  employ 
his  Talents  and  gift  better  elsewhere,  especially  when  where  he  is, 
he  is  not  bound  by  any  speciall  engagement.  Thus  God  sent 
Joseph  before  to  preserve  the  Church:  Josephs  wisedome  and 
spirit  was  not  fit  for  a  shepheard,  but  for  a  Counsellour  of  State, 
and  therefore  God  sent  him  into  Egypt.  To  whom  much  is  given 
of  him  God  will  require  the  more:  Luk  12.  48. 

Fifthly,  for  the  liberty  of  the  Ordinances.  2  Chron.  n.  13,  14, 
15.  When  Jeroboam  made  a  desertion  from  Judah,  and  set  up 
golden  Calves  to  worship,  all  that  were  well  affected,  both  Priests 
and  people,  sold  their  possessions,  and  came  to  Jerusalem  for  the 
Ordinances  sake.  This  case  was  of  seasonable  use  to  our  fathers 
in  the  dayes  of  Queene  Mary ;  who  removed  to  France  and  Ger 
many  in  the  beginning  of  her  Reign,  upon  Proclamation  of  altera 
tion  of  religion,  before  any  persecution  began. 

Secondly,  there  be  evills  to  be  avoyded  that  may  warrant  re- 
moveall.  First,  when  some  grievous  sinnes  overspread  a  Coun 
try  that  threaten  desolation.  Mic.  2.  6  to  n  verse:  When  the 
people  say  to  them  that  prophecie,  Prophecie  not;  then  verse  10. 
Arise  then,  this  is  not  your  rest.  Which  words  though  they  be  a 
threatning,  not  a  commandement ;  yet  as  in  a  threatning  a  wise 
man  foreseeth  the  plague,  so  in  the  threatning  he  seeth  a  com- 


88  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

mandement,  to  hide  himselfe  from  it.  This  case  might  have  been 
of  seasonable  use  unto  them  of  the  Palatinate,  when  they  saw  their 
Orthodox  Ministers  banished,  although  themselves  might  for  a 
while  enjoy  libertie  of  conscience. 

Secondly,  if  men  be  overburdened  with  debts  and  miseries,  as 
Davids  followers  were:  they  may  then  retire  out  of  the  way  (as 
they  retired  to  David  for  safety)  not  to  defraud  their  creditors  (for 
God  is  an  avenger  of  such  things,  i  Thess.  4.  6.)  but  to  gaine  fur 
ther  opportunity  to  discharge  their  debts,  and  to  satisfie  their 
Creditors,  i  Sam.  22.  i,  2.. 

Thirdly,  in  case  of  persecution,  so  did  the  Apostle  in  Acts  13.  46, 

47- 

Thirdly,  as  these  generall  cases,  where  any  of  them  doe  fall  out, 
doe  warrant  removeall  in  generall:  so  there  be  some  speciall 
providences  or  particular  cases  which  may  give  warrant  unto  such 
or  such  a  person  to  transplant  himselfe,  and  which  apply  the  former 
generall  grounds  to  particular  persons. 

First,  if  soveraigne  Authority  command  and  encourage  such 
Plantations  by  giving  way  to  subjects  to  transplant  themselves, 
and  set  up  a  new  Commonwealth.  This  is  a  lawfull  and  expedi 
ent  case  for  such  particular  persons  as  be  designed  and  sent: 
Matth.  8.  9.  and  for  such  as  they  who  are  sent,  have  power  to 
command. 

Secondly,  when  some  speciall  providence  of  God  leades  a  man 
unto  such  a  course.  This  may  also  single  out  particulars.  Psal. 
32.  8.  /  will  instruct,  and  guide  thee  with  mine  eye.  As  the  childe 
knowes  the  pleasure  of  his  father  in  his  eye,  so  doth  the  child  of 
God  see  Gods  pleasure  in  the  eye  of  his  heavenly  Fathers  provi 
dence.  And  this  is  done  in  three  wayes. 

First,  if  God  give  a  man  an  inclination  to  this  or  that  course, 
for  that  is  the  spirit  of  man ;  and  God  is  the  father  of  spirits :  Rom. 
i.  n,  12.  i  Cor.  1 6.  12.  Paul  discerned  his  calling  to  goe  to  Rom, 
by  his  TO  7jy>d0v/Aov,  his  ready  inclination  to  that  voyage ;  and 
A  polios  his  loathing  to  goe  to  Corinth,  Paul  accepted  as  a  just 
reason  of  his  refusall  of  a  calling  to  goe  thither.  And  this  holdeth, 
when  in  a  mans  inclination  to  travaile,  his  heart  is  set  on  no  by- 
respects,  as  to  see  fashions,  to  deceive  his  Creditours,  to  fight 
Duels,  or  to  live  idly,  these  are  vaine  inclinations;  but  if  his  heart 


JOHN   COTTON  89 

be  inclined  upon  right  judgement  to  advance  the  Gospell,  to  main- 
taine  his  family,  to  use  his  Talents  fruitfully,  or  the  like  good  end, 
this  inclination  is  from  God.  As  the  beames  of  the  Moone  dart 
ing  into  the  Sea  leades  it  to  and  fro,  so  doth  a  secret  inclination 
darted  by  God  into  our  hearts  leade  and  bowe  (as  a  byas)  our 
whole  course. 

Secondly,  when  God  gives  other  men  hearts  to  call  us  as  the 
men  of  Mecedon  did  Paid,  Come  to  us  into  Macedonia,  and  helpe 
us.  When  wee  are  invited  by  others  who  have  a  good  calling  to 
reside  there,  we  may  goe  with  them,  unlesse  we  be  detained  by 
waightier  occasions.  One  member  hath  interest  in  another,  to 
call  to  it  for  helpe,  when  it  is  not  diverted  by  greater  employment. 

Thirdly,  there  is  another  providence  of  God  concurring  in  both 
these,  that  is,  when  a  mans  calling  and  person  is  free,  and  not  tyed 
by  parents,  or  Magistrates,  or  other  people  that  have  interest  in 
him.  Or  when  abroad  hee  may  doe  himselfe  and  others  more  good 
than  he  can  doe  at  home.  Here  is  then  an  eye  of  God  that  opens 
a  doore  there,  and  sets  him  loose  here,  inclines  his  heart  that  way, 
and  outlookes  all  difficulties.  When  God  makes  roome  for  us,  no 
binding  here,  and  an  open  way  there,  in  such  a  case  God  tells 
them,  he  will  appoint  a  place  for  them. 

AN  ACCOUNT   OF  MRS.   ANNE   HUTCHINSON 

[From  "The  Way  of  Congregational  Churches  Cleared"] 

At  her  first  comming  she  was  well  respected  and  esteemed  of  me, 
not  onely  because  herself  and  her  family  were  well  beloved  in 
England  at  Allford  in  Lincolnshire  (not  far  beyond  Boston:)  nor 
onely  because  she  with  her  family  came  over  hither  (as  was  said) 
for  conscience  sake :  but  chiefly  for  that  I  heard,  shee  did  much 
good  in  our  Town,  in  womans  meeting  at  Childbirth-Travells, 
wherein  shee  was  not  onely  skilfull  and  helpfull,  but  readily  fell 
into  good  discourse  with  the  women  about  their  spirituall  estates : 
And  therein  cleared  it  unto  them,  That  the  soul  lying  under  a 
Spirit  of  Bondage,  might  see  and  sensibly  feel  the  hainous  guilt, 
and  deep  desert  of  sin,  and  thereby  not  onely  undergoe  affliction 
of  Spirit  but  also  receive  both  restraining,  and  constraining 


9o  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

Grace  likewise,  (in  some  measure:)  restraining  from  all  known 
evill  (both  courses,  and  companies)  (at  least  for  a  season)  and 
constraining  to  all  knowen  duties,  as  secret  Prayer,  Family  Exer 
cises,  Conscience  of  Sabbaths,  Reverence  of  Ministers,  Frequent 
ing  of  Sermons,  Diligence  in  calling,  honesty  in  dealing  and  the 
like :  yea  and  that  the  Soul  might  find  some  tastes  and  flashes  of 
spirituall  comfort  in  this  estate,  and  yet  never  see  or  feel  the  need 
of  Christ,  much  lesse  attain  any  saving  Union,  or  Communion 
with  him,  being  no  more  but  Legall  work,  even  what  the  Law,  and 
the  Spirit  of  bondage  (breathing  in  it)  might  reach  unto.  By 
which  means  many  of  the  women  (and  by  them  their  husbands) 
were  convinced,  that  they  had  gone  on  in  a  Covenant  of  Works, 
and  were  much  shaken  and  humbled  thereby,  and  brought  to 
enquire  more  seriously  after  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  without  whom 
all  their  Gifts  and  Graces  would  prove  but  common,  and  their 
duties  but  legall,  and  in  the  end  wizzen  and  vanish.  All  this  was 
well  (as  is  reported  truely,  page  31  of  her  Story)  and  suited  with 
the  publike  Ministery,  which  had  gone  along  in  the  same  way,  so 
as  these  private  conferences  did  well  tend  to  water  the  seeds  pub- 
likely  sowen.  Whereupon  all  the  faithfull  embraced  her  con 
ference,  and  blessed  God  for  her  fruitfull  discourses.  And  many 
whose  spirituall  estates  were  not  so  safely  layed,  yet  were  hereby 
helped  and  awakened  to  discover  their  sandy  foundations,  and  to 
seek  for  better  establishment  in  Christ:  which  caused  them  also 
to  blesse  the  Lord  for  the  good  successe,  which  appeared  to  them 
by  this  discovery. 

Hitherto  therefore  shee  wrought  with  God,  and  with  the  Min 
isters,  the  work  of  the  Lord.  No  marvell  therefore  if  at  that 
time,  shee  found  loving  and  dear  respect  both  from  our  Church- 
Elders  and  Brethren,  and  so  from  my  self  also  amongst  the  rest. 

Afterwards,  it  is  true,  she  turned  aside  not  only  to  corrupt 
opinions,  but  to  dis-esteem  generally  the  Elders  of  the  churches, 
(though  of  them  shee  esteemed  best  of  Mi.Shepheard:)  and  for  my 
selfe,  (in  the  repetitions  of  Sermons  in  her  house)  what  shee  repeated 
and  confirmed,  was  accounted  sound,  what  shee  omitted,  was 
accounted  Apocrypha.  This  change  of  hers  was  long  hid  from 
me:  and  much  longer  the  evidence  of  it,  by  any  two  clear  wit 
nesses.  I  sent  some  Sisters  of  the  Church  on  purpose  to  her 


JOHN   COTTON  9 1 

Repetitions,  that  I  might  know  the  truth:  but  when  shee  dis 
cerned  any  such  present,  no  speech  fell  from  her,  that  could  be 
much  excepted  against.  But  further  discourse  about  her  course 
is  not  pertinent  to  the  present  businesse.  But  by  this  Mr.  Baylie 
may  discerne,  how  farre  Ms.  Hutchinson  was  dear  unto  mee,  and 
if  hee  speak  of  her  as  my  deare  friend,  till  shee  turned  aside, 
I  refuse  it  not. 

But  yet  thus  much  I  must  professe  to  him,  That  in  the  times  of 
her  best  acceptance,  shee  was  not  so  dear  unto  mee,  but  that  (by 
the  help  of  Christ)  I  dealt  faithfully  with  her  about  her  spiritual! 
estate.  Three  things  I  told  her,  made  her  spirituall  estate  un 
clear  to  mee.  i.  ''That  her  Faith  was  not  begotten  nor  (by  her 
"relation)  scarce  at  any  time  strengthened  by  publick  Ministry, 
"but  by  private  Meditations,  or  Revelations  onely. 

"2.  That  shee  clearly  discerned  her  Justification  (as  shee 
"professed:)  but  little  or  nothing  at  all,  her  Sanctification :  though 
"  (she  said)  shee  beleeved,  such  a  thing  there  was  by  plain  Scripture. 

"3.  That  she  was  more  sharply  censorious  of  other  mens  spir- 
"ituall  estates  and  hearts,  then  the  servants  of  God  are  wont  to 
"be,  who  are  more  taken  up  with  judging  of  themselves  before  the 
"Lord,  then  of  others." 

AN  ADMONITION  TO   ROGER  WILLIAMS 

[From  "A  Letter  of  Mr.  John  Cottons,  Teacher  of  the  Church  in  Boston,  in 
New-England,  to  Mr.  Williams  a  Preacher  there"] 

Beloved  in  Christ, 

Though  I  have  little  hope  (when  I  consider  the  uncircumcision 
of  mine  owne  lips,  Exod.  6.  12.)  that  you  will  hearken  to  my  voyce, 
who  hath  not  hearkened  to  the  body  of  the  whole  Church  of  Christ, 
with  you,  and  the  testimony,  and  judgement  of  so  many  Elders 
and  Brethren  of  other  Churches,  yet  I  trust  my  labour  will  be 
accepted  of  the  Lord ;  and  who  can  tell  but  that  he  may  blesse  it 
to  you  also,  if  (by  his  helpe)  I  indevour  to  shew  you  the  sandinesse 
of  those  grounds,  out  of  which  you  have  banished  yours  from  the 
fellowship  of  all  the  Churches  in  these  Countries.  Let  not  any 
prejudice  against  my  person  (I  beseech  you)  forestall  either  your 
affection  or  judgement,  as  if  I  had  hastened  forward  the  sentence 


92 


EARLY   AMERICAN    WRITERS 


of  your  civill  banishment ;  for  what  was  done  by  the  Magistrates, 
in  that  kinde,  was  neither  done  by  my  counsell  nor  consent, 
although  I  dare  not  deny  the  sentence  passed  to  be  righteous  in 
the  eyes  of  God,  who  hath  said  that  he  that  with-holdeth  the  Corne 
(which  is  the  staffe  of  life)  from  the  people,  the  multitude  shall 
curse  him,  Prov.  n.  26.  how  much  more  shall  they  separate  such 
from  them  as  doe  with-hold  and  separate  them  from  the  Ordinances 
or  the  Ordinances  from  them  (which  are  in  Christ  the  bread  of  life). 
And  yet  it  may  be  they  passed  that  sentence  against  you  not  upon 
that  ground,  but  for  ought  I  know,  upon  your  other  corrupt  doc 
trines,  which  tend  to  the  disturbance  both  of  civill  and  holy  peace, 
as  may  appeare  by  that  answer  which  was  sent  to  the  Brethren  of 
the  Church  of  Salem,  and  to  your  selfe.  And  to  speake  freely 
what  I  thinke,  were  my  soule  in  your  soules  stead,  I  should  thinke 
it  a  worke  of  mercy  of  God  to  banish  me  from  the  civill  society  of 
such  a  Common  wealth,  when  I  could  not  in  joy  holy  fellowship 
with  any  Church  of  God  amongst  them  without  sin.  What 
should  the  Daughter  of  Zion  doe  in  Babell?  why  should  she  not 
hasten  to  flee  from  thence  ?  Zach.  2.  6,  7. 

I  speake  not  these  things  (the  God  of  Truth  is  my  witnes)  to 
adde  affliction  to  your  affliction,  but  (if  it  were  the  holy  will  of  God) 
to  move  you  to  a  more  serious  sight  of  your  sin,  and  of  the  justice 
of  Gods  hand  against  it.  Against  your  corrupt  Doctrines,  it 
pleased  the  Lord  Jesus  to  fight  against  you  with  the  sword  of  his 
mouth  (as  himselfe  speaketh,  Rev.  2.  16.)  in  the  mouthes  and  tes 
timonies  of  the  Churches  and  Brethren.  Against  whom,  when  you 
over-heated  your  selfe  in  reasoning  and  disputing  against  the  light 
of  his  truth,  it  pleased  him  to  stop  your  mouth  by  a  suddaine  dis 
ease,  and  to  threaten  to  take  your  breath  from  you.  But  you  in 
stead  of  recoyling  (as  even  Balaam  offered  to  doe  in  the  like  case) 
you  chose  rather  to  persist  in  your  way,  and  to  protest  against  all 
the  Churches  and  Brethren  that  stood  in  your  way:  and  thus  the 
good  hand  of  Christ  that  should  have  humbled  you,  to  see  and 
turne  from  the  errour  of  your  wray,  hath  rather  hardened  you 
therein,  and  quickned  you  onely  to  see  failings  (yea  intolerable 
errours)  in  all  the  Churches  and  brethren,  rather  then  in  your 
selfe.  In  which  course  though  you  say  you  doe  not  remember  an 
houre  wherein  the  countenance  of  the  Lord  was  darkned  to  you, 


JOHN  COTTON  93 

yet  be  not  deceived,  it  is  no  new  thing  with  Satan  to  transforme 
himselfe  into  an  Angell  of  light,  and  to  cheare  the  soule  with  false 
peace,  and  with  flashes  of  counterfeit  consolation.  Sad  and  wo- 
full  is  the  memory  of  Master  Smiths  strong  consolations  on  his 
death-bed,  which  are  set  as  a  Scale  to  the  grosse  and  damnable 
Arminiamsme  and  Enthusiasmes  delivered  in  the  confession  of  his 
faith,  prefixed  to  the  story  of  his  life  and  death.  The  counte 
nance  of  God  is  upon  his  people  when  they  feare  him,  not  when 
they  presume  of  their  owne  strength;  and  his  consolations  are 
found  not  in  the  way  of  presidence  in  errour,  but  in  the  wayes  of 
humility  and  truth. 

Two  stumbling  blockes  (I  perceive  by  your  letter)  have  turned 
you  off  from  fellowship  with  us.  First,  the  want  of  fit  matter 
of  our  Church.  Secondly,  disrespect  of  the  separate  Churches  in 
England  under  afflictions,  who  doe  our  selves  practise  separation 
in  peace. 

'For  the  first,  you  acknowledge  (as  you  say)  with  joy  that 
'godly  persons  are  the  visible  matter  of  these  Churches,  but  yet 
'you  see  not  that  godly  persons  are  matter  fitted  to  constitute  a 
'  Church,  no  more  then  trees  or  Quarries  are  fit  matter  propor- 
'tioned  to  the  building.' 

Answ.  This  exception  seemeth  to  mee  to  imply  a  contradiction 
to  it  selfe,  for  if  the  matter  of  our  Churches  be  as  you  say  godly 
persons,  they  are  not  then  as  trees  unfelled,  or  stones  unhewen. 
Godlinesse  cutteth  men  downe  from  the  former  roote,  and  heweth 
them  out  of  the  pit  of  corrupt  nature,  and  fitteth  them  for  fellow 
ship  with  Christ  and  with  his  people. 


ROGER   WILLIAMS 

[Roger  Williams,  famous  as  the  founder  of  Rhode  Island  and  the  chief 
advocate  of  religious  toleration  in  early  New  England,  was  born  in  Wales 
in  1599.  He  studied  at  Pembroke  College,  Cambridge,  and  took  orders  in 
the  Church  of  England,  but  soon  became  a  Puritan.  In  1630  he  sailed  for 
America,  and  served  as  minister  at  Salem,  and  for  a  time  at  Plymouth.  His 
views  on  religious  and  political  matters  became  more  radical,  and  after  va 
rious  less  drastic  proceedings  it  was  resolved  to  send  him  to  England  as  a 
dangerous  man.  He  eluded  the  officers,  and  took  refuge  among  the  Indians, 
with  whom  he  was  always  on  friendly  terms.  In  1636  he  established  a 
settlement  at  Providence,  and  afterward  secured  a  charter  for  the  colony  of 
Rhode  Island.  He  continued  as  a  leading  spirit  in  this  colony  until  his 
death  in  1683. 

Roger  Williams  was  a  man  of  wide  interests,  and  of  intense  and  some 
times  erratic  beliefs.  He  was  especially  stanch  in  maintaining  that  the 
colonists  had  no  right  to  their  lands  until  they  had  acquired  them  of  the 
Indians  by  purchase,  and  in  arguing  for  religious  toleration.  The  latter 
subject  he  debated  with  John  Cotton  in  one  of  the  most  famous  of  early 
New  England  controversies.  A  prisoner  in  Newgate,  confined  because  of 
his  religious  belief,  had  written  a  "letter"  arguing  against  persecution  for 
cause  of  conscience.  A  copy  of  this  was  sent  to  John  Cotton,  who  wrote  a 
reply.  In  answer  to  this  Williams  wrote  in  1643-1644  "The  Bloudy  Ten- 
ent  of  Persecution  for  cause  of  Conscience,  discussed  in  a  Conference  be- 
tweene  Truth  and  Peace."  Cotton  responded  with  "The  Bloody  Tenent 
washed  and  made  white  in  the  Blood  of  the  Lamb";  and  Williams  pub 
lished  as  a  rejoinder  "The  Bloody  Tenent  yet  More  Bloody:  by  Mr.  Cottons 
endevour  to  wash  it  white  in  the  Blood  of  the  Lambe."  The  selection  from 
"The  Bloody  Tenent"  which  follows  will  illustrate  the  method  of  religious 
controversy  of  the  time  —  the  reliance  on  the  letter  even  more  than  the  spirit 
of  Scripture,  and  the  minute  and  exhaustive  study  of  figurative  passages  in 
an  attempt  to  throw  light  on  practical  questions.  Though  Williams  was 
always  consistent  in  preaching  and  practising  religious  toleration,  so  far  as 
actual  persecution  was  concerned,  he  was  not  always  charitable  towards  the 
beliefs  of  others.  It  was  chiefly  due  to  his  efforts  that  the  Quakers  were 
permitted  in  Rhode  Island ;  but  in  "  George  Fox  Digg'd  out  of  his  Burrowes," 
his  account  of  an  oral  debate  which  he  held  with  champions  of  the  Quakers 
at  Newport,  he  is  often  bitter  and  vituperative.  Besides  the  works  already 
mentioned,  Roger  Williams  wrote  a  key  to  the  Indian  languages,  other  con 
troversial  and  religious  works,  and  many  letters,  some  of  them  of  great 
interest. 

94 


ROGER   WILLIAMS  95 

The  selections  given  follow  the  reprints  of  Williams's  works  in  the  "Pub 
lications  of  the  Narragansett  Club,"  Vols.  Ill,  IV,  and  V.] 


THE  MEANING  OF  THE  PARABLE  OF  THE  TARES 

[From  "The  Bloudy  Tenent  of  Persecution"  l] 

Peace.  We  are  now  come  to  the  second  part  of  the  Answer, 
which  is  a  particular  examination  of  such  grounds  as  are  brought 
against  such  persecution. 

The  first  sort  of  grounds  are  from  the  Scriptures. 

CHAP.   XVIII 

First,  Matth.  13.  30,  38.  because  Christ  commandeth  to  let 
alone  the  Tares  to  grow  up  together  with  the  Wheat,  untill  the 
Hardest. 

Unto  which  he  2  answereth :  That  Tares  are  not  Bryars  and 
Thornes,  but  partly  Hypocrites,  like  unto  the  godly,  but  indeed 
carnall  (as  the  Tares  are  like  to  Wheat,  but  are  not  Wheat,)  or 
partly  such  corrupt  doctrines  or  practices  as  are  indeed  unsound, 
but  yet  such  as  come  very  near  the  truth  (as  Tares  do  to  the 
Wheat)  and  so  neer  that  good  men  may  be  taken  with  them,  and 
so  the  persons  in  whom  they  grow  cannot  bee  rooted  out,  but 
good  Wheat  will  be  rooted  out  with  them.  In  such  a  case  (saith 
he)  Christ  calleth  for  peaceable  toleration,  and  not  for  penall 
prosecution,  according  to  the  third  Conclusion. 

Truth.  The  substance  of  this  Answer  I  conceive  to  be  first 
negative,  that  by  Tares  are  not  meant  persons  of  another  Religion 
and  Worship,  that  is  (saith  he)  they  are  not  Briars  and  Thornes. 

Secondly,  affirmative,  by  Tares  are  meant  either  persons,  or 
doctrines,  or  practices;  persons,  as  hypocrites,  like  the  godly: 
doctrines  or  practices  corrupt,  yet  like  the  truth. 

[*  Both  "  The  Bloudy  Tenent  "  and  "The  Bloudy  Tenent  yet  more  Bloudy  " 
were  originally  printed  with  a  marginal  gloss  that  summarized  the  argument. 
This  is  omitted  in  the  selections  here  given.] 

[2  John  Cotton.  The  first  paragraph  of  the  chapter  is  a  paraphrase  of  the 
statement  by  the  prisoner  in  Newgate  whose  paper  started  the  controversy  (see 
introduction).  The  second  paragraph  is  almost  a  literal  quotation  of  Cotton's 
reply.] 


g6  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

For  answer  hereunto  I  confesse  that  not  onely  those  worthy 
witnesses  (whose  memories  are  sweet  with  all  that  feare  God) 
Calvin,  Beza,  &c.  but  of  later  times  many  conjoyne  with  this 
worthy  Answerer,  to  satisfie  themselves  and  others  with  such  an 
Interpretation. 

But  alas,  how  darke  is  the  soule  left  that  desires  to  walke  with 
the  Lord  in  holy  feare  and  trembling,  when  in  such  a  waighty 
and  mighty  point  as  this  is,  that  in  matters  of  conscience  con- 
cerneth  the  spilling  of  the  bloud  of  thousands,  and  the  Civill 
Peace  of  the  World  in  the  taking  up  Armes  to  suppresse  all  false 
Religions!  when  I  say  no  evidence  or  demonstration  of  the  Spirit 
is  brought  to  prove  such  an  interpretation,  nor  Arguments  from 
the  place  it  self e  or  the  Scriptures  of  truth  to  confirme  it ;  but  a 
bare  Affirmation  that  these  Tares  must  signifie  persons,  or  doc 
trines  and  practices. 

I  will  not  imagine  any  deceitfull  purpose  in  the  Answerers 
thoughts  in  the  proposall  of  these  three,  persons,  doctrines,  or 
practices,  yet  dare  I  confidently  avouch  that  the  Old  Serpent  hath 
deceived  their  precious  soules,  and  by  Tongue  and  Pen  would 
deceive  the  soules  of  others  by  such  a  method  of  dividing  the 
word  of  truth.  A  threefold  Cord,  and  so  a  threefold  Snare,  is 
strong,  and  too  like  it  is  that  one  of  the  three,  either  Persons, 
Doctrines,  or  Practices  may  catch  some  feet. 

CHAP.  XIX 

Peace.  The  place  then  being  of  such  great  importance  as 
concerning  the  truth  of  God,  the  bloud  of  thousands,  yea  the  bloud 
of  Saints,  and  of  the  Lord  Jesus  in  them,  I  shall  request  your 
more  diligent  search  (by  the  Lords  holy  assistance)  into  this 
Scripture. 

[Truth.]  I  shall  make  it  evident,  that  by  these  Tares  in  this 
Parable  are  meant  persons  in  respect  of  their  Religion  and  way 
of  Worship,  open  and  visible  professours,  as  bad  as  briars  and 
thornes;  not  onely  suspected  Foxes,  but  as  bad  as  those  greedy 
Wolves  which  Paul  speakes  of,  Acts  20.  who  with  perverse  and 
evill  doctrines  labour  spiritually  to  devoure  the  flocke,  and  to 
draw  away  Disciples  after  them,  whose  mouthes  must  be  stopped, 


ROGER   WILLIAMS  97 

and  yet  no  carnall  force  or  weapon  to  be  used  against  them,  but 
their  mischiefe  to  bee  resisted  with  those  mighty  weapons  of  the 
holy  Armoury  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  wherein  there  hangs  a  thousand 
shields,  Cant.  4. 

That  the  Lord  Jesus  intendeth  not  doctrines  or  practices  by  the 
tares  in  this  Parable  is  cleare:  for 

First,  the  Lord  Jesus  expresly  interpreteth  the  good  seed  to  be 
persons,  and  those  the  children  of  the  Kingdome;  and  the  tares 
also  to  signifie  Men,  and  those  the  children  of  the  Wicked  one, 
ver.  38. 

Secondly,  such  corrupt  doctrines  or  practices  are  not  to  bee 
tolerated  now  as  those  Jewish  observations  (the  Lords  owne 
Ordinances}  were  for  a  while  to  be  permitted,  Rom.  14.  Nor  so 
long  as  till  the  Angels  the  Reapers  come  to  reape  the  Harvest  in 
the  end  of  the  world.  For  can  we  thinke  that  because  the  tender 
Consciences  of  the  Jewes  were  to  be  tendred  in  their  differences 
of  meats,  that  therefore  persons  must  now  bee  tolerated  in  the 
Church  (for  I  speake  not  of  the  Civill  State)  and  that  to  the 
worlds  end,  in  superstitious  forbearing  and  forbidding  of  flesh  in 
Popish  Lents,  and  superstitious  Fridayes,  &c.  and  that  because 
they  were  to  be  tendred  in  their  observation  of  Jewish  Holidayes, 
that  therefore  untill  the  Harvest  or  Worlds  end,  persons  must 
now  be  tolerated  (I  meane  in  the  Church}  in  the  observation  of 
Popish  Christmas,  Easter,  Whitsontide,  and  other  superstitious 
Popish  Festivals? 

I  willingly  acknowledge,  that  if  the  members  of  a  Church  of 
Christ  shall  upon  some  delusion  of  Sathan  kneele  at  the  Lords 
Supper,  keep  Christmas,  or  any  other  Popish  observation,  great 
tendernesse  ought  to  bee  used  in  winning  his  soule  from  the 
errour  of  his  way:  and  yet  I  see  not  that  persons  so  practising 
were  fit  to  be  received  into  the  Churches  of  Christ  now,  as  the 
Jews  weake  in  the  Faith,  (that  is,  in  the  Liberties  of  Christ}  were 
to  be  received,  Rom.  14.  i.  And  least  of  all  (as  before)  that  the 
toleration  or  permission  of  such  ought  to  continue  till  Doomes 
day,  or  the  end  of  the  world,  as  this  Parable  urgeth  the  Tolera 
tion;  Let  them  alone  untill  the  Harvest. 


98  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

CHAP.  XX 

Againe,  Hypocrites  were  not  intended  by  the  Lord  Jesus  in  this 
famous  Parable. 

First,  the  Original!  word  &£dvia}  signifying  all  those  Weeds 
which  spring  up  with  the  Corne,  as  Cockle,  Darnell,  Tares,  d^c. 
seemes  to  imply  such  a  kinde  of  people  as  commonly  and  generally 
are  knowne  to  bee  manifestly  different  from,  and  opposite  to  the 
true  worshippers  of  God,  here  called  the  children  of  the  Kingdom; 
as  these  weeds,  tares,  cockle,  darnell,  <5r»c.  are  commonly  and 
presently  knowne  by  every  husbandman  to  differ  from  the  wheat, 
and  to  be  opposite,  and  contrary,  and  hurtfull  unto  it. 

Now  whereas  it  is  pleaded  that  these  tares  are  like  the  wheat, 
and  so  like  that  this  consimilitude  or  likenesse  is  made  the  ground 
of  this  interpretation,  viz.  That  tares  must  needs  signine  hypocrites, 
or  doctrines,  or  practices,  who  are  like  Gods  children,  Truth,  £r»c. 

I  answer,  first,  the  Parable  holds  forth  no  such  thing,  that  the 
likenesse  of  the  tares  should  deceive  the  servants  to  cause  them 
to  suppose  for  a  time  that  they  were  good  wheat,  but  that  as 
soone  as  ever  the  tares  appeared,  ver.  26.  the  servants  came  to 
the  housholder  about  them,  ver.  27.  the  Scripture  holds  forth  no 
such  time  wherein  they  doubted  or  suspected  what  they  were. 

Peace.  It  may  be  said  they  did  not  appeare  to  be  tares  untill 
the  come  was  in  the  blade,  and  put  forth  its  fruit. 

Truth.  I  answer,1  The  one  appeared  as  soone  as  the  other, 
for  so  the  word  clearly  carries  it,  that  the  seed  of  both  having 
been  sowne,  when  the  wheat  appeared  and  put  forth  its  blade 
and  fruit,  the  tares  also  were  as  early,  and  put  forth  themselves 
as  appeared  also. 

Secondly,  there  is  such  a  dissimilitude  or  unlikenesse,  I  say 
such  a  dissimilitude,  that  as  soone  as  tares  and  wheat  are  sprung 
up  to  blade  and  fruit,  every  htisbandman  can  tell  which  is  wheat, 
and  which  are  tares  and  cockle,  6°c. 

Peace.  It  may  be  said  true:  So  when  the  hypocrite  is  mani 
fested,  then  all  may  know  him,  6*c.,  but  before  hypocrites  be 
manifested  by  fruits  they  are  unknowne. 

1  The  false  and  counterfeit  Christians  appeare  as  soon  as  the  true  and  faith- 
full. 


ROGER  WILLIAMS  99 

[Truth.]  I  answer,  search  into  the  Parable,  and  aske  when 
was  it  that  the  servants  first  complained  of  the  tares  to  the  hous- 
holder,  but  when  they  appeared  or  came  in  sight,  there  being  no 
interim,  wherein  the  servants  could  not  tell  what  to  make  of  them, 
but  doubted  whether  they  were  wJieat  or  tares,  as  the  Answerer 
implies. 

Secondly,  when  was  it  that  the  housholder  gave  charge  to  let 
them  alone,  but  after  that  they  appeared,  and  were  known  to  be 
tares,  which  should  imply  by  this  interpretation  of  the  Answerer, 
that  when  men  are  discovered  and  knowne  to  be  Hypocrites,  yet 
still  such  a  generation  of  Hypocrites  in  the  Church  must  be  let 
alone  and  tolerated  untill  the  hardest  or  end  of  the  world,  which 
is  contrary  to  all  order,  piety  and  safety  in  the  Church  of  the 
Lord  Jesus,  as  doubtlesse  the  Answerers  will  grant;  so  that  these 
Tares  being  notoriously  knowne  to  be  different  from  the  Corne, 
I  conclude  that  they  cannot  here  be  intended  by  the  Lord  Jesus 
to  signifie  secret  Hypocrites,  but  more  open  and  apparent  Sinners. 

CHAP.  XXI 

The  second  reason  why  these  tares  cannot  signifie  hypocrites 
in  the  Church,  I  take  from  the  Lord  Jesus  His  own  Interpretation 
of  the  field  (in  which  both  wlieat  and  tares  are  sowne,  which  saith 
he  is  the  World,  out  of  which  God  chooseth  and  calleth  His  Church. 

The  World  lyes  in  wickednesse,  is  like  a  Wildernesse  or  a  Sea  of 
wilde  Beasts  innumerable,  fornicators,  covetous,  Idolaters,  &c. 
with  whom  Gods  people  may  lawfully  converse  and  cohabit  in  Cities, 
Townes,  <5r»c.  else  must  they  not  live  in  the  World,  but  goe  out  of 
it.  In  which  world  as  soone  as  ever  the  Lord  Jesus  had  sowne 
the  good  seed,  the  children  of  the  Kingdome,  true  Christianity,  or 
the  true  Church;  the  Enemy  Sathan  presently  in  the  night  of 
security,  Ignorance  and  Errour  (whilst  men  slept)  sowed  also 
these  tares  which  are  Antichristians  or  false  Christians.  These 
strange  Professours  of  the  Name  of  Jesus,  the  Ministers  and 
Prophets  of  God  beholding,  they  are  ready  to  runne  to  Heaven 
to  fetch  fiery  judgements  from  thence  to  consume  these  strange 
Christians,  and  to  pluck  them  by  the  roots  out  of  the  world: 
But  the  Son  of  Man,  the  meek  Lamb  of  God  (for  the  Elect  sake 


100  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

which  must  be  gathered  out  of  Jew  and  Gentile,  Pagan,  Anti- 
Christian)  commands  a  permission  of  them  in  the  World,  untill 
the  time  of  the  end  of  the  World,  when  the  Goats  and  Sheep, 
the  Tares  and  Wheat  shall  be  eternally  separated  each  from 
other. 

Peace.  You  know  some  excellent  Worthies  (dead  and  living) 
have  laboured  to  turne  this  Field  of  the  World  into  the  Garden  of 
the  Church. 

Truth.  But  who  can  imagine  that  the  Wisdome  of  the  Father, 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  would  so  open  this  Parable  (as  He  pro 
fessedly  doth)  as  that  it  should  be  close  shut  up,  and  that  one 
difficulty  or  locke  should  be  opened  by  a  greater  and  harder,  in 
calling  the  World  the  Church?  contrary  also  to  the  way  of  the 
Light  and  Love  that  is  in  Jesus,  when  he  would  purposely  teach 
and  instruct  His  scholars ;  contrary  to  the  nature  of  Parables  and 
similitudes. 

And  lastly,  to  the  nature  of  the  Church  or  Garden  of  Christ. 

CHAP.  XXII 

In  the  former  Parable  the  Lord  Jesus  compared  the  Kingdome 
of  Heaven  to  the  sowing  of  Seed.  The  true  Messengers  of  Christ 
are  the  Sowers,  who  cast  the  Seed  of  the  Word  of  the  Kingdome 
upon  foure  sorts  of  ground,  which  foure  sorts  of  ground  or  hearts 
of  men,  cannot  be  supposed  to  be  of  the  Church,  nor  will  it  ever 
be  proved  that  the  Church  consisteth  of  any  more  sorts  or  natures 
of  ground  properly,  but  one,  to  wit,  the  honest  and  good  ground, 
and  the  proper  worke  of  the  Church  concernes  the  nourishing  and 
prosperity  of  this  sort  of  ground,  and  not  the  other  unconverted 
three  sorts,  who  it  may  be  seldome  or  never  come  neare  the 
Church  unlesse  they  be  forced  by  the  Civill  sword,  which  the 
patterne  or  first  sowers  never  used,  and  being  forced  they  are  put 
into  a  way  of  Religion  by  such  a  course,  if  not  so,  they  are  forced 
to  live  without  a  Religion,  for  one  of  the  two  must  necessarily 
follow,  as  I  shall  prove  afterward. 

In  the  field  of  the  World  then  are  all  those  sorts  of  ground,  high 
way  hearers,  stony  and  thorny  ground  hearers,  as  well  as  the 
honest  and  good  ground;  and  I  suppose  it  will  not  now  be  said 


ROGER  WILLIAMS  101 

by  the  Answerer,  that  those  three  sorts  of  "bad  grounds  were 
hypocrites  or  tares  in  the  Church. 

Now  after  the  Lord  Jesus  had  propounded  that  great  leading 
Parable  of  the  Sower  and  the  Seed,  He  is  pleased  to  propound 
this  Parable  of  the  Tares,  with  admirable  coherence  and  sweet 
consolation  to  the  honest  and  good  ground,  who  with  glad  and 
honest  hearts  having  received  the  word  of  the  Kingdome,  may  yet 
seem  to  be  discouraged  and  troubled  with  so  many  Antkhristians 
and  false  Professours  of  the  Name  of  Christ.  The  Lord  Jesus 
therefore  gives  direction  concerning  these  tares,  that  unto  the  end 
of  the  World  successively  in  all  the  sorts  and  generations  of  them 
they  must  be  (not  approved  or  countenanced,  but)  let  alone  or 
permitted  in  the  World. 

Secondly,  he  gives  to  His  owne  good  seed  this  consolation,  that 
those  heavenly  Reapers  the  Angells  in  the  Jtar^est  or  end  of  the 
World,  will  take  an  order  and  course  with  them,  to  wit,  they  shall 
binde  them  into  bundles,  and  cast  them  into  the  everlasting  'burn 
ings,  and  to  make  the  cup  of  their  consolation  run  over :  He  adds 
vers.  4.  Then,  then  at  that  time  shall  the  Righteous  shine  as  the 
Sun  in  the  Kingdome  of  their  Father. 

These  tares  then  neither  being  erronious  doctrines,  nor  corrupt 
practises,  nor  hypocrites  in  the  true  Church  intended  by  the  Lord 
Jesus  in  this  Parable;  I  shall  in  the  third  place  (by  the  helpe  of 
the  same  Lord  Jesus)  evidently  prove  that  these  tares  can  be  no 
other  sort  of  sinners,  but  false  worshippers,  Idolaters,  and  in  par 
ticular  properly,  Antichristians. 

CHAP.   XXIII 

First  then,  these  Tares  are  such  sinners  as  are  opposite  and 
contrary  to  the  children  of  the  Kingdome  visibly  so  declared  and 
manifest,  ver.  38.  Now  the  Kingdome  of  God  below,  is  the 
visible  Church  of  Christ  Jesus,  according  to  Matth.  8.  12.  The 
children  of  the  Kingdome  which  are  threatned  to  be  cast  out, 
seeme  to  be  the  Jewes,  which  were  then  the  onely  visible  Church 
in  Covenant  with  the  Lord,  when  all  other  Nations  followed 
other  gods  and  worships.  And  more  plaine  is  that  fearfull  threat- 
ning,  Matth.  21.  43.  The  Kingdome  of  God  shall  be  taken 


102  'EARLY  'AMERICAN  WRITERS 

from  you,  and  given  to  a  Nation  that  will  bring  forth  the 
fruits  thereof. 

Such  then  are  the  good  seed,  good  wheat,  children  of  the  King- 
dome,  as  are  the  disciples,  members  and  subjects  of  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  his  Church  6°  Kingdom:  and  therefore  consequently  such 
are  the  tares,  as  are  opposite  to  these,  Idolaters,  Will-worshippers, 
not  truly  but  falsly  submitting  to  Jesus:  and  in  especiall,  the 
children  of  the  wicked  one,  visibly  so  appearing.  Which  wicked 
one  I  take  not  to  be  the  Devill;  for  the  Lord  Jesus  seemes  to 
make  them  distinct:  He  that  sowes  the  good  seed  (saith  he)  is 
the  Son  of  man,  the  field  is  the  World,  the  good  seed  are  the  Chil 
dren  of  the  Kingdome,  but  the  Tares  are  the  children  of  the  wicked, 
or  wickednesse,  the  enemy  that  sowed  them,  is  the  Devill. 

The  Originall  here,  TOV  Trovrjpov,  agrees  with  that,  Luk.  11.4. 
Deliver  us,  OLTTO  r\ovf]pov,  from  evill  or  wickednesse;  opposite 
to  the  children  of  the  Kingdome  and  the  righteousness e  thereof. 

CHAP.  XXIV 

Peace.  It  is  true,  that  all  drunkards,  thieves,  uncleane  persons, 
&c.  are  opposite  to  Gods  children. 

Truth.  Answ.  Their  opposition  here  against  the  children  of 
the  Kingdome,  is  such  an  opposition  as  properly  fights  against  the 
Religious  state  or  Worship  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ. 

Secondly,  it  is  manifest,  that  the  Lord  Jesus  in  this  parable 
intends  no  other  sort  of  sinners,  unto  whom  he  saith,  Let  them 
alone,  in  Church  or  State;  for  then  he  should  contradict  other 
holy  and  blessed  ordinances  for  the  punishment  of  offenders  both 
in  Christian  and  Civill  State. 

First,  in  Civill  state,  from  the  beginning  of  the  World,  God 
hath  armed  Fathers,  Masters,  Magistrates,  to  punish  evill  doers, 
that  is,  such  of  whose  actions  Fathers,  Masters,  Magistrates  are 
to  judge,  and  accordingly  to  punish  such  sinners  as  transgresse 
against  the  good  and  peace  of  their  Civill  state,  Families,  Townes, 
Cities,  Kingdomes :  their  States,  Governments,  Governours,  Lawes, 
Punishments  and  Weapons  being  all  of  a  Civill  nature;  and  there 
fore  neither  disobedience  to  parents  or  magistrates,  nor  murther 
nor  quarrelling,  uncleannesse  nor  laciviousnesse,  stealing  nor  eoctor- 


ROGER   WILLIAMS  103 

tion,  neither  ought  of  that  kinde  ought  to  be  let  alone,  either  in 
lesser  or  greater  families,  townes,  cities,  kingdomes,  Rom.  13.  but 
seasonably  to  be  supprest,  as  may  best  conduce  to  the  publike 
safetie. 

Againe  secondly,  in  the  Kingdome  of  Christ  Jesus,  whose  king- 
dome,  officers,  laives,  punishments,  weapons,  are  spirituall  and  of  a 
Soule-nature,  he  will  not  have  Antichristian  idolaters,  extortioners, 
covetous,  &*c.  to  be  let  alone,  but  the  uncleane  and  lepers  to  be 
thrust  forth,  the  old  leaven  purged  out,  the  obstinate  in  sinne 
spiritually  stoned  to  death,  and  put  away  from  Israel;  and  this 
by  many  degrees  of  gentle  admonition  in  private  and  publique,  as 
the  case  requires. 

Therefore  if  neither  offenders  against  the  civill  Laives,  State  and 
peace  ought  to  be  let  alone;  nor  the  Spirituall  estate,  the  Church 
of  Jesus  Christ  ought  to  beare  with  them  that  are  evill,  Revel.  2. 
I  conclude,  that  these  are  sinners  of  another  nature,  Idolaters, 
False-worshippers,  Antichristians,  who  without  discouragement 
to  true  Christians  must  be  let  alone  and  permitted  in  the  world 
to  grow  and  fill  up  the  measure  of  their  sinnes,  after  the  image 
of  him  that  hath  sowen  them,  untill  the  great  Harvest  shall  make 
the  difference. 

CHAP.  XXV 

Thirdly,  in  that  the  officers  unto  whom  these  Tares  are  referred, 
are  the  Angels  the  heavenly  Reapers  at  the  last  day,  it  is  cleare 
as  the  light,  that  (as  before)  these  Tares  cannot  signifie  Hypo 
crites  in  the  Church,  who  when  they  are  discovered  and  seen  to  be 
Tares  opposite  to  the  good  fruit  of  the  good  seed,  are  not  to  be 
let  alone  to  the  Angels  at  Harvest  or  end  of  the  world,  but  purged 
out  by  the  Governors  of  the  Church,  and  the  whole  Church  of 
Christ.  Againe,  they  cannot  be  offenders  against  the  civill  state 
and  Common  welfare,  whose  dealing  with  is  not  suspended  unto 
the  comming  of  the  Angels,  but  [is  committed]  unto  Men,  who 
(although  they  know  not  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  yet)  are  lawfull 
Governours  and  Riders  in  Civill  things. 

Accordingly  in  the  4.  and  last  place,  in  that  the  plucking  up  of 
these  tares  out  of  this  field  must  bee  let  alone  unto  the  very  harvest 
or  end  of  the  world,  it  is  apparent  from  thence,  that  (as  before) 


104  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

they  could  not  signifie  hypocrites  in  the  Church,  who  when  they 
are  discovered  to  be  so,  (as  these  tares  were  discovered  to  be 
tares)  are  not  to  be  suffered  (after  the  first  and  second  Admoni 
tion)  but  to  be  rejected,  and  every  Brother  that  walketh  dis 
orderly  to  be  withdrawen  or  separated  from:  So  likewise  no 
offendour  against  the  Civill  state,  by  robbery,  murther,  adultery, 
oppression,  sedition,  mutinie,  is  for  ever  to  be  connived  at,  and  to 
enjoy  a  perpetuall  toleration  unto  the  Worlds  end,  as  these  tares 
must. 

Moses  for  a  while  held  his  peace  against  the  sedition  of  Korah, 
Dathan,  and  Abiram.  David  for  a  season  tolerated  Shimei, 
Joab,  Adonijah;  but  till  the  Harvest  or  end  of  the  World,  the 
Lord  never  intended  that  any  but  these  spirituall  and  mysticall 
Tares  should  be  so  permitted. 

CHAP.   XXVI 

Now  if  any  imagine  that  the  time  or  date  is  long,  that  in  the 
meane  season  they  may  doe  a  world  of  mischief e  before  the  Worlds 
end,  as  by  infection,  &c. 

Truth.  First,  I  answer,  that  as  the  civill  State  keepes  it  selfe 
with  a  civill  Guard,  in  case  these  Tares  shall  attempt  ought  against 
the  peace  and  welfare  of  it,  let  such  civill  offences  be  punished, 
and  yet  as  Tares  opposite  to  Christs  Kingdome,  let  their  Worship 
and  Consciences  be  tolerated. 

Secondly,  the  Church  or  spirituall  State,  City,  or  Kingdome 
hath  lawes,  and  orders,  and  armories,  (whereon  there  hang  a 
thousand  Bucklers,  Cant.  4.)  Weapons  and  Ammunition,  able  to 
break  down  the  strongest  Holds,  i  Cor.  10.  and  so  to  defend  it 
selfe  against  the  very  Gates  of  Earth  or  Hell. 

Thirdly,  the  Lord  himself  knows  who  are  his,  &  his  foundation 
remaineth  sure,  his  Elect  or  chosen  cannot  perish  nor  be  finally 
deceived. 

Lastly,  the  Lord  Jesus  here  in  this  Parable  layes  downe  two 
Reasons,  able  to  content  and  satisfie  our  hearts,  to  beare  patiently 
this  their  contradiction  and  Antichristianity,  and  to  permit  or  let 
them  alone. 

First,  let  the  good  Wheat  bee  pluckt  up  and  rooted  up  also 


ROGER   WILLIAMS  105 

out  of  this  Field  of  the  World:  if  such  combustions  and  fightings 
were,  as  to  pluck  up  all  the  false  professours  of  the  name  of  Christ, 
the  good  wheat  also  would  enjoy  little  peace,  but  be  in  danger  to 
bee  pluckt  up  and  torne  out  of  this  world  by  such  bloody  stormes 
and  tempests. 

And  therefore  as  Gods  people  are  commanded,  Jer.  29.  to  pray 
for  the  peace  of  materiall  Babell,  wherein  they  were  captivated, 
and  i  Tim.  2.  to  pray  for  all  men,  and  specially  Kings  and  Gov 
ernors,  that  in  the  peace  of  the  civill  State  they  may  have  peace : 
So  contrary  to  the  opinion  and  practice  of  most  (drunke  with  the 
Cup  of  the  Whores  fornication)  yea,  and  of  Gods  owne  people 
fast  asleepe  in  Antichristian  Dalilahs  laps,  obedience  to  the  com 
mand  of  Christ  to  let  the  tares  alone,  will  prove  the  onely  meanes 
to  preserve  their  Civill  Peace,  and  that  without  obedience  to  this 
command  of  Christ,  it  is  impossible  (without  great  transgression 
against  the  Lord  in  carnall  policy,  which  will  not  long  hold  out) 
to  preserve  the  civill  peace. 

Beside,  Gods  people  the  good  Wheat  are  generally  pluckt  up 
and  persecuted,  as  well  as  the  vilest  idolaters,  whether  Jewes  or 
Antichristians,  which  the  Lord  Jesus  seemes  in  this  Parable  to 
foretell 

The  second  Reason  noted  in  the  Parable  which  may  satisfie  any 
man  from  wondering  at  the  patience  of  God,  is  this:  when  the 
world  is  ripe  in  sinne,  in  the  sinnes  of  Antlchristianisme  (as  the  . 
Lord  spake  of  the  sinnes  of  the  Amorites,  Gen.  12.)  then  those 
holy  and  mighty  Officers  and  Executioners,  the  Angels,  with  their 
sharpe  and  cutting  sickles  of  eternall  vengeance,  shall  downe  with 
them,  and  bundle  them  up  for  the  everlasting  burnings. 

Then  shall  that  Man  of  Sin,  2.  Thess.  2.  be  consumed  by  the 
breath  of  the  mouth  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  and  all  that  worship  the 
Beast  and  his  picture,  and  receive  his  mark  into  their  forehead 
or  their  hands,  shall  drink  of  the  Wine  of  the  wrath  of  God  which 
is  poured  out  without  mixture  into  the  Cup  of  his  indignation, 
and  he  shall  be  tormented  with  fire  and  brimstone  in  the  presence 
of  the  holy  Angels,  and  in  the  presence  of  the  Lambe,  and  the 
smoake  of  their  torment  shall  ascend  up  forever  and  ever,  Rev. 
14.  10.  ii. 


106  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

"THE  PORTRAITURE  OF  THE  BLOUDIE  TENENT" 

[From  "The  bloody  Tenent  yet  more  bloody"] 

And  for  my  selfe  I  must  proclaime,  before  the  most  holy  God, 
Angells  and  Men,  that  (what  ever  other  white  and  heavenly 
Tenents  Mr.  Cotton  houlds)  yet  this  is  afowle,  a  black,  and  a  bloudie 
Tenent. 

A  Tenent  of  high  Blasphemie  against  the  God  of  Peace,  the  God 
of  Order,  who  hath  of  one  Bloud,  made  all  Mankinde,  to  dwell 
upon  the  face  of  the  Earth,  now,  all  confounded  and  destroyed  in 
their  Civill  Beings  and  Subsistences,  by  mutuall  flames  of  warre 
from  their  severall  respective  Religions  and  Consciences. 

A  Tenent  warring  against  the  Prince  of  Peace,  Christ  Jesus, 
denying  his  Appearance  and  Comming  in  the  Flesh,  to  put  an 
end  to,  and  abolish  the  shadowes  of  that  ceremoniall  and  typicall 
Land  of  Canaan. 

A  Tenent  fighting  against  the  sweete  ewd  of  his  camming,  which 
was  not  to  destroy  mens  Lives,  for  their  Religions,  but  to  save 
them,  by  the  meeke  and  peaceable  Invitations  and  perswasions 
of  his  peaceable  wisdomes  Maidens.  * 

A  Tenent  fowly  charging  his  W  is  dome,  Faithfullnes  and  Love, 
in  so  poorly  providing  such  Magistrates  and  Civill  Powers  all 
the  World  over,  as  might  effect  so  great  a  charge  pretended  to  be 
committed  to  them. 

A-  Tenent  lamentably  guilty  of  his  most  precious  bloud,  shed  in 
the  bloud  of  so  many  hundreth  thousand  of  his  poore  servants 
by  the  civill  powers  of  the  World,  pretending  to  suppresse  Blas 
phemies,  Heresies,  Idolatries,  Superstition,  &c. 

A  Tenent  fighting  with  the  Spirit  of  Love,  Holines,  and  Meek- 
nes,  by  kindling  fiery  Spirits  of  false  zeale  and  Furie,  when  yet 
such  Spirits  know  not  of  what  Spirit  they  are. 

A  Tenent  fighting  writh  those  mighty  Angels  who  stand  up  for 
the  peace  of  the  Saints,  against  Persia,  Grecia,  &c.  and  so  con 
sequently,  all  other  Nations,  who  fighting  for  their  severall  Reli 
gions,  and  against  the  Truth,  leave  no  Roome  for  such  as  feare 
and  love  the  Lord  on  the  Earth. 

A  Tenent,  against  which  the  blessed  Soules  under  the  Altar 


ROGER   WILLIAMS  107 

cry  loud  for  vengeance,  this  Tenent  having  cut  their  Throats, 
torne  out  their  Hearts,  and  powred  forth  their  Blond  in  all  Ages, 
as  the  onely  Hereticks  and  Blasphemers  in  the  World. 

A  Tenent  which  no  Undeannes,  no  Adulterie,  Incest,  Sodomie, 
or  Beastialitie  can  equall,  this  ravishing  and  forcing  (explicitly 
or  implicitly)  the  very  Soules  and  Consciences  of  all  the  Nations 
and  Inhabitants  of  the  World. 

A  Tenent  that  puts  out  the  very  e^e  of  all  true  Faith,  which 
cannot  but  be  as  free  and  voluntarie  as  any  Virgin  in  the  World, 
in  refusing  or  embracing  any  spirituall  offer  or  object. 

A  Tenent  loathsome  and  ugly  (in  the  eyes  of  the  GW  of  Heaven, 
and  serious  sonnes  of  men)  I  say,  loathsome  with  the  palpable 
filths  of  grosse  dissimulation  and  hypocrisie:  Thousands  of 
Peoples  and  whole  Nations,  compelld  by  this  Tenent  to  put  on 
the  fowle  vizard  of  Religious  hypocrisie,  for  feare  of  Lawes,  losses 
and  punishments,  and  for  the  keeping  and  hoping  for  of  favour, 
libertie,  wordly  commoditie,  &c. 

A  Tenent  wofully  guiltie  of  hardning  all  false  and  deluded  Con 
sciences  (of  whatsoever  Sect,  Faction,  Heresie,  or  Idolatrie,  though 
never  so  horrid  and  blasphemous)  by  cruelties  and  violences  prac 
ticed  against  them:  all  false  Teachers  and  their  Followers  (ordi 
narily)  contracting  a  Brawnie  and  steelie  hardnesse  from  their 
sufferings  for  their  Consciences. 

A  Tenent  that  shuts  and  bars  out  the  gracious  prophecies  and 
promises  and  discoveries  of  the  most  glorious  Sim  of  Righteousnes, 
Christ  Jesus,  that  burnes  up  the  holy  Scriptures,  and  forbids  them 
(upon  the  point)  to  be  read  in  English,  or  that  any  try  all  or  search, 
or  (truly)  free  disquisition  be  made  by  them:  when  the  most 
able,  diligent  and  conscionable  Readers  must  pluck  forth  their 
own  eyes,  and  be  forced  to  reade  by  the  (which  soever  predomi 
nant)  Clear gies  Spectacles. 

A  Tenent  that  scales  up  the  spirituall  graves  of  all  men,  Jewes 
and  Gentiles,  (and  consequently  stands  guiltie  of  the  damnation  of 
all  men)  since  no  Preachers,  nor  Trumpets  of  Christ  himselfe 
may  call  them  out,  but  such  as  the  severall  and  respective  Nations 
of  the  World  themselves  allow  of. 

A  Tenent  that  fights  against  the  common  principles  of  all  Civilitie, 
and  the  very  civill  being  and  combinations  of  men  in  Nations, 


108  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

Cities,  &c.  by  commixing  (explicitly  or  implicitly)  a  spirituall 
and  civill  State  together,  and  so  confounding  and  overthrowing 
the  puritie  and  strength  of  both. 

A  Tenent  that  kindles  the  devouring  flames  of  combustions  and 
wanes  in  most  Nations  of  the  PFtfr/d,  and  (if  Go d  were  not  infinitely 
gracious)  had  almost  ruind  the  English,  French,  the  Scotch  and 
Irish,  and  many  other  Nations,  Germane,  Polonian,  Hungarian, 
Bohemian,  &c. 

A  tenent  that  bowes  downe  the  backs  and  necks  of  all  cm// 
S/a/es  and  Magistrates,  Kings  and  Emperours,  under  the  proud 
feet  of  that  man  and  monster  of  swme  and  ^nde  the  Pope,  and  all 
Popish  and  proud  Cleargie-men  rendring  such  Laicks  and  Secw- 
/ars  (as  they  call  them)  but  slavish  Executioners  (upon  the  point) 
of  their  most  imperious  Synodicall  Decrees  and  Sentences. 

A  Tenent  that  renders  the  highest  civill  Magistrates  and  Minis 
ters  of  Justice  (the  Fathers  and  G0ds  of  their  Countries)  either 
odious  or  lamentably  grievous  unto  the  very  best  Subjects  by 
either  clapping  or  keeping  on,  the  iron  yoakes  of  cruellest  oppres 
sion.  No  yoake  or  bondage  comparably  so  griveous,  as  that  upon 
the  Soules  necke  of  mens  Religion  and  Consciences. 

A  Tenent,  all  besprinckled  with  the  bloudie  murthers,  stobs, 
poysonings,  pistollings,  powder- plots,  &c.  against  many  famous 
Kings,  Princes,  and  States,  either  actually  performed  or  attempted 
in  France,  England,  Scotland,  Low-Countries,  and  other  Nations. 

A  Tenent  all  red  and  bloudie  with  those  most  barbarous  and 
Tyger-like  Massacres,  of  so  many  thousand  and  ten  thousands 
formerly  in  France,  and  other  parts,  and  so  lately  and  so  horribly 
in  Ireland:  of  which,  whatever  causes  be  assigned,  this  chiefly 
will  be  found  the  true,  and  while  this  continues  (to  wit,  violence 
against  Conscience)  this  bloudie  Issue,  sooner  or  later,  must  breake 
forth  againe  (except  God  wonderfully  stop  it)  in  Ireland  and  other 
places  too. 

A  Tenent  that  stunts  the  growth  and  flourishing  of  the  most 
likely  and  hopefullest  Common-weales  and  Countries,  while  Con 
sciences,  the  best,  and  the  best  deserving  Subjects  are  forct  to  flie 
(by  enforced  or  voluntary  Banishment)  from  their  native  Coun 
tries;  The  lamentable  proofe  whereof  England  hath  felt  in  the 
flight  of  so  many  worthy  English,  into  the  Low  Countries  and 


ROGER   WILLIAMS  109 

New  England,  and  from  New  England  into  old  againe  and  other 
forraigne  parts. 

A  Tenent  whose  grosse  partialitie  denies  the  Principles  of  com 
mon  Justice,  while  Men  waigh  out  to  the  Consciences  of  all  others, 
that  which  they  judge  not  fit  nor  right  to  be  waighed  out  to  their 
owne:  Since  the  persecutours  Rule  is,  to  take  and  persecute  all 
Consciences,  onely,  himself e  must  not  be  touched. 

A  Tenent  that  is  but  Machevilisme,  and  makes  a  Religion,  but 
a  cloake  or  stalking  horse  to  policie  and  private  Ends  of  Jeroboams 
Crowne,  and  the  Priests  Benefice,  &c. 

A  Tenent  that  corrupts  and  spoils  the  very  Civill  Honestie  and 
Naturall  Conscience  of  a  Nation.  Since  Conscience  to  GW  vio 
lated,  proves  (without  Repentance)  ever  after,  a  very  /ade,  a 
Drug,  loose  and  unconscionable  in  all  converse  with  men. 

Lastly,  a  Tenent  in  England  most  unseasonable,  as  powering 
Cty/e  upon  those  Flames  which  the  high  Wisdome  of  the  Parlia 
ment  (by  easing  the  yoakes  on  Mens  Consciences)  had  begun  to 
quench. 

In  the  sad  Consideration  of  all  which  (Deare  Peace)  let  Heaven 
and  Earth  judge  of  the  washing  and  cofowr  of  this  Tenent.  For 
thee  (sweete  heavenly  Guest)  goe  lodge  thee  in  the  breasts  of  the 
peaceable  and  humble  Witnesses  of  Jesus,  that  love  the  Truth  in 
peace!  Hide  thee  from  the  Worlds  Tumults  and  Combustions, 
in  the  breasts  of  thy  truely  w0We  children,  who  professe  and  ew- 
deavour  to  breake  the  wm;y  and  insupportable  yoakes  upon  the 
Soules  and  Consciences  of  any  of  the  sonnes  of  Men. 


ON  CHRIST  WITHOUT  AND   WITHIN 

[From  "George  Fox  Digg'd  out  of  his  Burrowes"] 

In  Pag.  221.  He  brings  in  the  Author  to  a  Book  called  Hosanna 
to  the  Son  of  David,  saying,  [Christ  is  without  the  Saints  in  respect 
of  his  Bodily  presence,]  He  Answereth,  (They  are  of  his  Flesh 
and  of  his  Bone,  and  eat  his  Flesh  and  drink  his  Blood:  and 
how  have  the  Saints  his  Mind  and  Spirit,  and  he  with  them  and 
they  with  him,  and  sit  with  him  in  Heavenly  places,  and  he  is 
the  Head  of  the  Church:  how  then  is  he  absent?  Ye  poor 


HO  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

Apostates  from  him  who  feel  not  Christ  with  you,  but  he  is  with 
the  Saints,  and  they  feel  him.) 

/  Reply,  I  observe  this  Viperous  Tongue  saying  to  the  unknown, 
heavenly  Author,  and  Fox  his  other  Oppositee  [Ye  poor  Apostates 
&c.]  what  is  it  but  a  heighth  of  Devilish  Pride  going  before  de 
struction  and  condemnation?  this  proud  swelling  Bladder  puft 
up  with  a  Timpany  of  Wind  and  Vanity,  what  a  huge  swelling 
shew  he  makes  ?  what  a  breadth  of  confident  boldness  and  bruit- 
ish  impudencie  he  carries  before  him?  what  a  gross,  Frantick 
Papist  is  he  become,  that  cannot,  will  not  distinguish  between 
Christs  Spiritual  presence  and  his  bodily  ?  that  cannot,  will  not 
consider  the  difference  between  Spirits  and  Bodies,  a  Spirit  that 
hath  no  Flesh  nor  Bones,  and  a  Body  which  hath  both,  as  Christ 
his  Body  had?  that  cannot,  will  not  distinguish  between  their 
sinful  Flesh  and  Bones,  and  the  sinless  Flesh  and  Bones  of  that 
Man  Christ  Jesus  ?  that  cannot,  will  not  distinguish  between  God 
manifested  in  the  Flesh  and  Bones  of  that  Man  Christ  Jesus, 
and  manifested  in  the  Flesh  and  Bones  of  Believers  in  him :  O 
most  Holy  and  Righteous  are  thy  Judgements,  O  thou  most  High 
Judge  of  the  World,  who  art  a  devouring  fire  and  Justice  it  self, 
who  thus  casteth  down  the  Proud  and  Self -conceited  into  the  Dun 
geon  of  such  Black  and  Hellish  Ignorance ! 

Pag.  217,  Out  of  a  Book  mentioning  the  Quakers  Cause,  saying, 
[To  say  Christ  within  is  never  to  mention  Christ  without}.  He 
Answers,  There  is  none  knows  Christ  within,  but  he  knows  him 
without :  the  same  yesterday,  and  to  day,  and  for  ever :  And  there 
is  none  knows  him  but  they  know  him  within,  revealed  of  the 
Father,  which  is  beyond  Flesh  and  Blood. 

I  Observe,  This  foolish  Fox  (for  all  his  hiding  Craft)  is  here 
found  out :  He  professeth  (against  his  Will  and  Heart)  a  Christ 
that  died  at  Jerusalem,  and  therefore  is  he  forced  to  name  a  Christ 
without:  but  when  the  Hole  and  Burrough  is  Digged  the  Fox  is 
found:  For  Examine  what  is  this  Christ  without?  is  he  that 
litteral,  real  and  material  Person  the  Son  of  Mary  (as  all  professing 
Christs  Name  generally  agree)  ?  Is  this  he  whom  the  Quakers 
acknowledge  to  have  lived  and  died  at  Jerusalem?  and  do  they 
intend  a  Material  Crosse,  a  literal  Death,  a  literal  and  real  Jerusa 
lem  ?  some  of  them  will  say  yes,  but  therein  give  the  lye  to  others 


ROGER    WILLIAMS  III 

of  themselves,  and  also  to  the  rest  of  their  own  story,  in  acknowl 
edging  no  other  Christ  but  such  as  is  in  every  man:  such  a  Christ 
as  really  and  bodily  died  at  Jerusalem,  they  scorn  and  hate  and  fly 
from  as  the  Devils  did,  crying  out,  What  have  we  to  do  with  thee 
Jesus  thou  Son  of  the  most  High  God,  art  thou  come  to  torment  us 
before  the  time?  Hence  the  former  Arch-deacon  or  Arch-bishop  of 
these  parts  Humphrey  Norton:  he  mocks  at  an  outward  Christ, 
he  asks  what  Countryman  he  was  and  shall  be :  He  reproves  the 
Fools  that  have  their  Eyes  abroad,  and  gazing  after  a  man  into 
Heaven,  he  jeers  at  the  Crosse,  and  asks  what  manner  of  wood 
it  was  made  of,  seeing  we  must  take  it  up  dayly  ?  And  Fox  saith, 
this  Jesus  Christ  without  and  within,  is  Jesus  Christ  yesterday, 
and  to  day,  and  the  same  for  ever :  therefore  in  the  Logick  or  Rea 
son  of  this  Bruite,  Christ  had  no  body  that  was  born  at  Bethlehem, 
or  died  at  Jerusalem;  For  he  was  born  yesterday,  and  to  day,  and 
he  is  born  forever:  he  dyed  yesterday,  and  he  dies  to  day,  and 
he  dies  forever,  which  is  a  most  Heavenly  Truth  relating  to 
Gods  purpose,  Christs  Merit,  and  to  Forefathers,  our  present 
times,  and  such  as  yet  must  be  born  and  follow  after  us. 

But  such  Mystical  and  figurative  Scriptures  (which  are  in 
themselves  like  Sampsons  Lion  and  Riddle}  through  Satans  Pol 
icy,  and  the  proud  simplicity  of  these  simple  Foxes,  are  made  the 
common  Holes  and  Burroughs  where  you  may  be  sure  to  find 
them:  just  like  the  Jesuites  (whose  Cosens,  if  not  Brethren  of  one 
belly  of  Hell  they  are)  who  usually  confound  clear  Scriptures  with 
Spirituall  and  Mystical  Illusions,  and  fly  from  Distinctions  and 
openings  necessary  in  places  more  dark,  figurative  and  allegorical 


NATHANIEL   WARD 

["The  Simple  Cobler  of  Aggawamm"  is  one  of  the  most  interesting  of 
American  literary  curiosities,  though  it  is  valuable  chiefly  as  a  curiosity.  Its 
author,  the  Rev.  Nathaniel  Ward,  was  a  graduate  of  Cambridge,  who  had 
been  a  barrister  and  had  travelled  extensively  on  the  Continent  before  he 
became  a  clergyman.  After  coming  into  conflict  with  Laud  because  of  his 
Puritanism,  he  sailed  for  America  in  1634,  and  remained  until  1647.  He 
served  as  minister  at  Ipswich,  then  known  as  Aggawam,  from  1634  to  1636, 
when  he  laid  down  his  pastorate  on  account  of  poor  health.  About  1645  he 
began  to  write  the  pamphlet  which  was  published  in  London  early  in  1647, 
inscribed  on  the  title-page  "The  Simple  Cobler  of  Aggawamm  in  America. 
Willing  to  help  'mend  his  Native  Country,  lamentably  tattered,  both  in  the 
upper-Leather  and  sole,  with  all  the  honest  stitches  he  can  take.  And  as 
willing  never  to  bee  paid  for  his  work,  by  Old  English  wonted  pay.  It  is 
his  trade  to  patch  all  the  year  long,  gratis.  Therefore  I  pray  Gentlemen  keep 
your  purses.  By  Theodore  de  la  Guard."  Though  written  in  America,  and 
dealing  to  some  extent  with  American  themes,  "The  Simple  Cobler"  is  evi 
dently  addressed  to  the  people  and  parliament  of  Great  Britain,  and  owes  its 
inception  to  the  political  and  religious  condition  of  the  mother  country.  It 
begins  with  a  protest  against  religious  toleration,  and  passes  to  a  tirade 
against  women's  fashions  and  long  hair;  but  the  greater  part  of  the  work, 
though  somewhat  rambling,  is  given  to  a  discussion  of  the  political  state  of 
England.  One  of  the  best  written  and  least  intemperate  parts  of  the  pam 
phlet  is  a  long  address  to  "My  Dearest  Lord,  and  my  more  than  dearest 
King" ;  but  the  work  owes  its  fame  to  the  more  virulent  passages  which  are 
fairly  represented  in  the  pages  that  follow.  The  oddity  of  these  has  dis 
tracted  attention  from  the  narrowness  and  bitterness  of  the  ideas  that  they 
express,  and  has  allowed  the  author's  name  to  live  with  a  more  creditable 
reputation  than  it  would  have  had  if  his  prejudices  had  been  less  curiously 
phrased. 

Ward  returned  to  England  in  time  to  revise  the  second,  third,  and  fourth 
editions  of  "The  Simple  Cobler,"  all  of  which  appeared  in  London  in  1647. 
While  in  the  colonies  he  had  compiled  "The  Body  of  Liberties,"  a  code  of 
laws  adopted  by  Massachusetts  in  1641,  and  after  his  return  to  England  he 
published  a  number  of  sermons  and  other  writings.  The  selections  that 
follow  are  from  the  reprint  of  the  fourth  edition  of  "The  Simple  Cobler," 
issued  by  the  Ipswich  Historical  Society  in  1905.] 


NATHANIEL   WARD  113 

ON  TOLERATION   OF   RELIGIOUS   OPINIONS 

[From  "The  Simple  Cobler  of  Aggawamm"] 

Either  I  am  in  an  Appoplexie,  or  that  man  is  in  a  Lethargic, 
who  doth  not  now  sensibly  feele  God  shaking  the  heavens  over 
his  head,  and  the  earth  under  his  feet:  The  Heavens  so,  as  the 
Sun  begins  to  turne  into  darknesse,  the  Moon  into  blood,  the 
Starres  to  fall  down  to  the  ground ;  So  that  little  Light  of  Comfort 
or  Counsell  is  left  to  the  sonnes  of  men:  The  Earth  so,  as  the 
foundations  are  failing,  the  righteous  scarce  know  where  to  finde 
rest,  the  inhabitants  stagger  like  drunken  men :  it  is  in  a  manner 
dissolved  both  in  Religions  and  Relations:  And  no  marvell;  for, 
they  have  defiled  it  by  transgressing  the  Lawes,  changing  the  Or 
dinances,  and  breaking  the  Everlasting  Covenant.  The  Truths 
of  God  are  the  Pillars  of  the  world,  whereon  States  and  Churches 
may  stand  quiet  if  they  will ;  if  they  will  not,  Hee  can  easily  shake 
them  off  into  delusions,  and  distractions  enough. 

Sathan  is  now  in  his  passions,  he  feeles  his  passion  approach 
ing;  hee  loves  to  fish  in  royled  waters.  Though  that  Dragon 
cannot  sting  the  vitals  of  the  Elect  mortally,  yet  that  Beelzebub 
can  fly-blow  their  Intellectuals  miserably:  The  finer  Religion 
grows,  the  finer  hee  spins  his  Cobwebs,  hee  will  hold  pace  with 
Christ  so  long  as  his  wits  will  serve  him.  Hee  sees  himself e  beaten 
out  of  grosse  Idolatries,  Heresies,  Ceremonies,  where  the  Light 
breakes  forth  with  power ;  he  will  therefore  bestirre  him  to  pre 
varicate  Evangelicall  Truths,  and  Ordinances,  that  if  they  will 
needs  be  walking,  yet  they  shall  laborare  varicibiis,  and  not  keep 
their  path,  he  will  put  them  out  of  time  and  place;  Assassinating 
for  his  Engineers,  men  of  Paracelsian  parts;  well  complexioned 
for  honesty;  for,  such  are  fittest  to  Mountebanke  his  Chimistry 
into  sicke  Churches  and  weake  Judgements. 

Nor  shall  hee  need  to  stretch  his  strength  overmuch  in  this 
worke:  Too  many  men  having  not  laid  their  foundations  sure, 
nor  ballasted  their  Spirits  deepe  with  humility  and  feare,  are  prest 
enough  of  themselves  to  evaporate  their  owne  apprehensions. 
Those  that  are  acquainted  with  Story  know,  it  hath  ever  beene  so 
in  new  Editions  of  Churches:  "Such  as  are  least  able,  are  most 
busie  to  pudder  in  the  rubbish,  and  to  raise  dust  in  the  eyes  of 


114  EARLY   AMERICAN    WRITERS 

more  steady  Repayrers.  Civill  Commotions  make  roome  for 
uncivill  practises:  Religious  mutations,  for  irreligious  opinions: 
Change  of  Aire,  discovers  corrupt  bodies;  Reformation  of  Reli 
gion,  unsound  mindes.  Hee  that  hath  any  well-faced  phansy 
in  his  Crowne,  and  doth  not  vent  it  now,  fears  the  pride  of  his 
owne  heart  will  dub  him  dunce  for  ever.  Such  a  one  will  trouble 
the  whole  Israel  of  God  with  his  most  untimely  births,  though  he 
makes  the  bones  of  his  vanity  stick  up,  to  the  view  and  griefe  of 
all  that  are  godly  wise.  The  devill  desiers  no  better  sport  then 
to  see  light  heads  handle  their  heels,  and  fetch  their  carreers  in 
a  time,  when  the  Roofe  of  Liberty  stands  open. 

The  next  perplexed  Question,  with  pious  and  ponderous  men, 
will  be:  What  should  bee  done  for  the  healing  of  these  comfort- 
lesse  exulcerations.  I  am  the  unablest  adviser  of  a  thousand,  the 
unworthiest  of  ten  thousand ;  yet  I  hope  I  may  presume  to  assert 
what  follows  without  just  offence. 

First,  such  as  have  given  or  taken  any  unfriendly  reports  of  us 
New-English,  should  doe  well  to  recollect  themselves.  Wee 
have  beene  reputed  a  Colluvies  of  wild  Opinionists,  swarmed  into 
a  remote  wildernes  to  find  elbow-roome  for  our  phanatick  Doc 
trines  and  practices:  I  trust  our  diligence  past,  and  constant 
sedulity  against  such  persons  and  courses,  will  plead  better 
things  for  us.  I  dare  take  upon  me,  to  bee  the  Herauld  of  New- 
England  so  farre,  as  to  proclaime  to  the  world,  in  the  name  of  our 
Colony,  that  all  Familists,  Antinomians,  Anabaptists,  and  other 
Enthusiasts  shall  have  free  Liberty  to  keepe  away  from  us,  and 
such  as  will  come  to  be  gone  as  fast  as  they  can,  the  sooner  the 
better. 

Secondly,  I  dare  averre,  that  God  doth  no  where  in  his  word 
tolerate  Christian  States,  to  give  Toleration  to  such  adversaries  of 
his  Truth,  if  they  have  power  in  their  hands  to  suppresse  them. 

Here  is  lately  brought  us  an  extract  of  a  Magna  Charta,  so  called, 
compiled  between  the  Sub-planters  of  a  West-Indian  Island; 
whereof  the  first  Article  of  constipulation,  firmly  provides  free 
stable-room  and  litter  for  all  kinde  of  consciences,  be  they  never 
so  dirty  or  jadish;  making  it  actionable,  yea,  treasonable,  to  dis- 
turbe  any  man  in  his  Religion,  or  to  discommend  it,  whatever  it 
be.  Wee  are  very  sorry  to  see  such  professed  prophanenesse  in 


NATHANIEL   WARD  115 

English  Professors,  as  industriously  to  lay  their  Religious  founda 
tions  on  the  ruine  of  true  Religion;  which  strictly  binds  every 
conscience  to  contend  earnestly  for  the  Truth :  to  preserve  unity  of 
spirit,  Faith  and  Ordinances,  to  be  all  like  minded,  of  one  accord; 
every  man  to  take  his  brother  into  his  Christian  care:  to  standfast 
with  one  spirit,  with  one  mind,  striving  together  for  the  faith  of  the 
Gospel,  and  by  no  meanes  to  permit  Heresies  or  erronious  opin 
ions  :  But  God  abhorring  such  loathsome  beverages,  hath  in  his 
righteous  judgement  blasted  that  enterprize,  which  might  other 
wise  have  prospered  well,  for  ought  I  know;  I  presume  their 
case  is  generally  knowne  ere  this. 

If  the  devill  might  have  his  free  option,  I  beleeve  he  would  ask 
nothing  else,  but  liberty  to  enfranchize  all  false  Religions,  and  to 
embondage  the  true;  nor  should  hee  need:  It  is  much  to  be 
feared,  that  laxe  Tolerations  upon  State-pretences  and  planting 
necessities,  will  be  the  next  subtle  Stratagem  he  will  spread  to 
distate  the  Truth  of  God  and  supplant  the  peace  of  the  Churches. 
Tolerations  in  things  tolerable,  exquisitely  drawn  out  by  the  lines 
of  the  Scripture,  and  pensill  of  the  Spirit,  are  the  sacred  favours 
of  Truth,  the  due  latitudes  of  Love,  the  faire  Compartiments  of 
Christian  fraternity:  but  irregular  dispensations,  dealt  forth  by 
the  facilities  of  men,  are  the  frontiers  of  error,  the  redoubts  of 
Schisme,  the  perillous  irritaments  of  carnall  and  spirituall  enmity. 

My  heart  hath  naturally  detested  foure  things :  The  standing  of 
the  Apocrypha  in  the  Bible ;  Forrainers  dwelling  in  my  Countrey, 
to  crowd  out  native  Subjects  into  the  corners  of  the  Earth;  Alchy- 
mized  coines;  Tolerations  of  divers  Religions,  or  of  one  Religion 
in  segregant  shapes:  He  that  willingly  assents  to  the  last,  if  he 
examines  his  heart  by  day-light,  his  conscience  will  tell  him,  he  is 
either  an  Atheist,  or  an  Heretique,  or  an  Hypocrite,  or  at  best  a 
captive  to  some  Lust:  Poly-piety  is  the  greatest  impiety  in  the 
world.  True  Religion  is  Ignis  probationis,  which  doth  congregare 
homogenea  &  segregare  heterogenea. 

Not  to  tolerate  things  meerly  indifferent  to  weak  consciences, 
argues  a  conscience  too  strong :  pressed  uniformity  in  these,  causes 
much  disunity :  To  tolerate  more  then  indifferents,  is  not  to  deale 
indifferently  with  God :  He  that  doth  it,  takes  his  Scepter  out  of 
his  hand,  and  bids  him  stand  by.  Who  hath  to  doe  to  institute 


Il6  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

Religion  but  God.  The  power  of  all  Religion  and  Ordinances, 
lies  in  their  purity :  their  purity  in  their  simplicity :  then  are  mix 
tures  pernicious.  I  lived  in  a  City,  where  a  Papist  preached  in 
one  Church,  a  Lutheran  in  another,  a  Calvinist  in  a  third;  a 
Lutheran  one  part  of  the  day,  a  Calvinist  the  other,  in  the  same 
Pulpit:  the  Religion  of  that  place  was  but  motly  and  meagre, 
their  affections  Leopard-like. 

If  the  whole  Creature  should  conspire  to  doe  the  Creator  a  mis 
chief  e,  or  offer  him  an  insolency,  it  would  be  in  nothing  more, 
than  in  erecting  untruths  against  his  Truth,  or  by  sophisticating 
his  Truths  with  humane  medleyes :  the  removing  of  some  one  iota 
in  Scripture,  may  draw  out  all  the  life,  and  traverse  all  the  Truth 
of  the  whole  Bible :  but  to  authorise  an  untruth,  by  a  Toleration 
of  State,  is  to  build  a  Sconce  against  the  walls  of  heaven,  to  batter 
God  out  of  his  Chaire :  To  tell  a  practicall  lye,  is  a  great  sin,  but 
yet  transient;  but  to  set  up  a  Theoricall  untruth,  is  to  warrant  every 
lye  that  lyes  from  its  root  to  the  top  of  every  branch  it  hath,  which 
are  not  a  few. 

I  would  willingly  hope  that  no  Member  of  the  Parliament  hath 
skilfully  ingratiated  himself  e  into  the  hearts  of  the  House,  that  he 
might  watch  a  time  to  midwife  out  some  ungracious  Toleration 
for  his  owne  turne,  and  for  the  sake  of  that,  some  other,  I  would 
also  hope  that  a  word  of  generall  caution  should  not  be  particu 
larly  misapplied.  I  am  the  freer  to  suggest  it,  because  I  know 
not  one  man  of  that  mind,  my  aime  is  generall,  and  I  desire  may 
be  so  accepted.  Yet  good  Gentlemen,  look  well  about  you,  and 
remember  how  Tiberius  play'd  the  Fox  with  the  Senate  of  Rome, 
and  how  Fabius  Maximus  cropt  his  ears  for  his  cunning. 

MORE   ARGUMENTS   AGAINST  TOLERATION 

[From  "The  Simple  Cobler"] 

It  is  said,  Though  a  man  have  light  enough  himselfe  to  see  the 
Truth,  yet  if  he  hath  not  enough  to  enlighten  others,  he  is  bound 
to  tolerate  them,  I  will  engage  my  self,  that  all  the  Devills  in 
Britanie  shall  sell  themselves  to  their  shirts,  to  purchase  a  Lease 
of  this  Position  for  three  of  their  Lives,  under  the  Scale  of  the 
Parliament. 


NATHANIEL   WARD  1 17 

It  is  said,  That  Men  ought  to  have  Liberty  of  their  Conscience, 
and  that  it  is  persecution  to  debarre  them  of  it:  I  can  rather 
stand  amazed  then  reply  to  this:  it  is  an  astonishment  to  think 
that  the  braines  of  men  should  be  parboyl'd  in  such  impious  igno 
rance  ;  Let  all  the  wits  under  the  Heavens  lay  their  heads  together 
and  finde  an  Assertion  worse  then  this  (one  excepted)  I  will  peti 
tion  to  be  chosen  the  universall  Ideot  of  the  world. 

It  is  said,  That  Civill  Magistrates  ought  not  to  meddle  with 
Ecclesiasticall  matters. 

I  would  answer  to  this  so  well  as  I  could,  did  I  not  know  that 
some  papers  lately  brought  out  of  New-England,  are  going  to  the 
Presse,  wherein  the  Opinions  of  the  Elders  there  in  a  late  Synod, 
concerning  this  point  are  manifested,  which  I  suppose  will  give 
clearer  satisfaction  then  I  can. 

The  true  English  of  all  this  their  false  Latine,  is  nothing  but 
a  generall  Toleration  of  all  Opinions;  which  motion  if  it  be  like 
to  take,  it  were  very  requisite,  that  the  City  would  repaire  Pauls 
with  all  the  speed  they  can,  for  an  English  Pantheon,  and  bestow 
it  upon  the  Sectaries,  freely  to  assemble  in,  then  there  may  be 
some  hope  that  London  will  be  quiet  in  time. 

But  why  dwell  I  so  intolerable  long  about  Tolerations,  I  hope 
my  fears  are  but  panick,  against  which  I  have  a  double  cordiall. 
First,  that  the  Parliament  will  not  though  they  could :  Secondly, 
that  they  cannot  though  they  would  grant  such  Tolerations.  God 
who  hath  so  honoured  them  with  eminent  wisdome  in  all  other 
things,  will  not  suffer  them  to  cast  both  his,  and  their  Honour  in 
the  dust  of  perpetuall  Infamy,  doe  what  they  can;  nor  shall  those 
who  have  spent  so  great  a  part  of  their  substance  in  redeeming 
their  Civill  Liberties  from  Usurpation,  lose  all  that  remaines  in 
enthralling  their  spirituall  Liberty  by  Toleration. 

It  is  said  Opinionists  are  many,  and  strong,  that  de  sunt 
Vires,  that  it  is  turbata  respuUica,  I  am  very  sorry  for  it,  but  more 
sorry,  if  despondency  of  minde  shall  cause  the  least  tergiversation 
in  Gods  Worthies,  who  have  received  such  pledges  of  his  presence 
in  their  late  Counsels,  and  Conflicts.  It  is  not  thousands  of 
Opinionists  that  can  pinion  his  Everlasting  armes,  I  can  hardly 
beleeve  there  is  a  greater  unbeleever  then  my  Selfe,  yet  I  can  verily 
beleeve  that  the  God  of  Truth  will  in  a  short  time  scatter  them 


Il8  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

all  like  smoak  before  the  wind.  I  confesse  I  am  troubled  to  see 
Men  so  over-troubled  about  them;  I  am  rather  glad  to  heare  the 
Devill  is  breaking  up  house  in  England,  and  removing  some 
whither  else,  give  him  leave  to  sell  all  his  rags,  and  odd-eends  by 
the  out-cry ;  and  let  his  petty  Chapmen  make  their  Market  while 
they  may,  upon  my  poore  credit  it  will  not  last  long.  Hee  that 
hath  done  so  much  for  England  will  go  on  to  perfect  his  owne 
praise,  and  his  Peoples  Peace :  Let  good  men  stand  still,  and 
behold  his  further  Salvation.  He  that  sitteth  in  the  Heavens 
laughs  at  them,  the  most  High  hath  them  in  Derision,  and  their 
folly  shall  certainly  be  manifested  to  all  men. 

Yet  I  dare  not  but  adde,  and  in  the  Name  of  God  will  adde,  that 
if  any  Publique  members  of  Church  or  State,  have  been  either 
open  fautors,  or  private  abetters  of  any  blasphemous,  contagious 
Opinions,  It  will  be  their  wisdome  to  proportion  their  repentance 
to  their  Sin,  before  God  makes  them  Publique  monuments  of 
Ignominie,  and  Apostasie. 

Thirdly,  that  all  Christian  States,  ought  to  disavow  and  decry 
all  such  Errors,  by  some  peremptory  Statutary  Act,  and  that  in 
time,  that  Subjects  knowing  fully  the  minde  of  the  State,  might 
not  delude  themselves  with  vaine  hopes  of  unsufferable  Liberties. 
It  is  lesse  to  say,  Statuatur  veritas,  mat  Regnum,  than  Fiat  justitia, 
ruatCoelum;  but  there  is  no  such  danger  in  either  of  them.  Feare 
nothing  Gentlemen,  Rubiconemtransiistis,  jacta  est  alea,  ye  have 
turned  the  Devill  out  of  doores ;  fling  all  his  old  parrell  after  him 
out  at  the  windows,  lest  he  makes  another  errand  for  it  againe. 
Quae  relinquuntur  in  morbis  post  indicationem,  recidivas  facere 
conf never  e.  Christ  would  have  his  Church  without  spot  or 
wrinckle;  They  that  help  make  it  so,  shall  lose  neither  honour 
nor  labour:  If  yee  be  wise,  suffer  no  more  thorns  in  his  sides  or 
your  owne.  When  God  kindles  such  fires  as  these,  hee  doth  not 
usually  quench  them,  till  the  very  scum  on  the  pot  sides  be  boyled 
cleane  away,  Ezek.  24.  10,  n.  Yee  were  better  to  doe  it  your 
selves,  than  leave  it  to  him :  the  Arme  of  the  Lord  is  mighty,  his 
hand  very  heavy ;  who  can  dwell  with  his  devouring  fire,  and  long 
lasting  burnings? 

Fourthly,  to  make  speedy  provision  against  Obstinates  and 
Disseminaries :  where  under  favour,  two  things  will  be  found 


NATHANIEL   WARD  119 

requisite.  First,  variety  of  penaltyes,  I  meane  certaine,  not  in 
definite:  I  am  a  Crabbat  against  Arbitrary  Government.  Ex 
perience  hath  taught  us  here,  that  political!,  domesticall,  and  per- 
sonall  respects,  will  not  admit  one  and  the  same  remedy  for  all, 
without  sad  inconveniences.  Secondly,  just  severity:  persecu 
tion  hath  ever  spread  Truth,  prosecution  scattered  Errour:  Ten 
of  the  most  Christian  Emperors,  found  that  way  best;  Schollars 
know  whom  I  meane:  Five  of  the  ancient  Fathers  perswaded  to 
it,  of  whom  Augustine  wras  one,  who  for  a  time  argued  hard  for 
indulgency:  but  upon  conference  with  other  prudent  Bishops, 
altered  his  judgement,  as  appears  in  three  of  his  Epistles,  to 
Marcellinus,  Donatus,  and  Boniface.  I  would  be  understood,  not 
onely  an  Allower,  but  an  humble  Petitioner,  that  ignorant  and 
tender  conscienced  Anabaptists  may  have  due  time  and  means  of 
conviction. 

Fifthly,  That  every  Prophet,  to  whom  God  hath  given  the 
tongue  of  the  learned,  should  teach,  and  every  Angel  who  hath 
a  pen  and  inkehorne  by  his  side  write  against  these  grieving  ex 
travagancies  :  writing  of  many  books,  I  grant  is  irksome,  reading 
endlesse.  A  reasonable  man  would  thinke  Divines  had  declaimed 
sufficiently  upon  these  Themes.  I  have  ever  thought  the  Rule 
given,  Titus  3.  10.  which  cuts  the  work  short  and  sharpe  to  be 
more  properly  prevelant,  then  wearisome  waiting  upon  unwear- 
iable  Spirits.  It  is  a  most  toylsome  taske  to  run  the  wild-goose 
chase  after  a  well-breath 'd  Opinionist :  they  delight  in  vitilitigation : 
it  is  an  itch  that  loves  alife  to  be  scrub 'd:  they  desire  not  satis 
faction,  but  satisdiction,  whereof  themselves  must  be  judges: 
yet  in  new  eruptions  of  Error  with  new  objections,  silence  is 
sinfull. 

ON  WOMEN'S  FASHIONS 

[From  "The  Simple  Cobler"] 

Should  I  not  keepe  promise  in  speaking  a  little  to  Womens 
fashions,  they  would  take  it  unkindly:  I  was  loath  to  pester 
better  matter  with  such  stuffe;  I  rather  thought  it  meet  to  let 
them  stand  by  themselves,  like  the  Quae  Genus  in  the  Grammer, 
being  Deficients,  or  Redundants,  not  to  be  brought  under  any 


120  EARLY  AMERICAN   WRITERS 

Rule :  I  shall  therefore  make  bold  for  this  once,  to  borrow  a  little 
of  their  loose  tongued  Liberty,  and  mis-spend  a  word  or  two  upon 
their  long- wasted,  but  short-skirted  patience:  a  little  use  of  my 
stirrup  will  doe  no  harme. 

Ridentem  dicer e  verum,  quid  prohibet? 

Gray  Gravity  it  selfe  can  well  beteam, 
That  Language  be  adapted  to  the  Theme. 
He  that  to  Parrots  speaks,  must  parrotise: 
He  that  instructs  afoole,  may  act  th'  unwise. 

It  is  known  more  then  enough,  that  I  am  neither  Nigard,  nor 
Cinick,  to  the  due  bravery  of  the  true  Gentry:  if  any  man  dis 
likes  a  bully mong  drossock  more  then  I,  let  him  take  her  for  his 
labour:  I  honour  the  woman  that  can  honour  her  selfe  with  her 
attire :  a  good  Text  alwayes  deserves  a  fair  Margent ;  I  am  not 
much  offended,  if  I  see  a  trimme,  far  trimmer  than  she  that  weares 
it:  in  a  word,  whatever  Christianity  or  Civility  will  allow,  I  can 
afford  with  London  measure:  but  when  I  heare  a  nugiperous 
Gentledame  inquire  what  dresse  the  Queen  is  in  this  week :  what 
the  nudiustertian  fashion  of  the  Court;  with  egge  to  be  in  it  in 
all  haste,  whatever  it  be;  I  look  at  her  as  the  very  gizzard  of  a 
trifle,  the  product  of  a  quarter  of  a  cypher,  the  epitome  of  Noth 
ing,  fitter  to  be  kickt,  if  shee  were  of  a  kickable  substance,  than 
either  honour'd  or  humour'd. 

To  speak  moderately,  I  truly  confesse  it  is  beyond  the  ken  of 
my  understanding  to  conceive,  how  those  women  should  have 
any  true  grace,  or  valuable  vertue,  that  have  so  little  wit,  as  to 
disfigure  themselves  with  such  exotick  garbes,  as  not  only  dis 
mantles  their  native  lovely  lustre,  but  transclouts  them  into 
gant-bar-geese,  ill-shapen-shotten-shell-fish,  Egyptian  Hyeroglyph- 
icks,  or  at  the  best  into  French  flurts  of  the  pastery,  which  a 
proper  English  woman  should  scorne  with  her  heels :  it  is  no  mar- 
veil  they  weare  draills  on  the  hinder  part  of  their  heads,  having 
nothing  as  it  seems  in  the  fore-part,  but  a  few  Squirrils  brains 
to  help  them  frisk  from  one  ill-favour'd  fashion  to  another. 

These  whimm'  Crown' d  shees,  these  fashion-fansying  wits, 
Are  empty  thin  brain' d  shells,  and  fidling  Kits. 


NATHANIEL   WARD  121 

The  very  troublers  and  impoverishers  of  mankind,  I  can  hardly 
forbeare  to  commend  to  the  world  a  saying  of  a  Lady  living  some 
time  with  the  Queen  of  Bohemia,  I  know  not  where  shee  found  it, 
but  it  is  pitty  it  should  be  lost. 

The  -world  is  full  of  care,  much  like  unto  a  bubble; 

Women  and  care,  and  care  and  women,  and  •women  and  care  and  trouble. 

The  Verses  are  even  enough  for  such  odde  pegma's  I  can  make 
my  selfe  sicke  at  any  time,  with  comparing  the  dazling  splender 
wherewith  our  Gentlewomen  were  imbellished  in  some  former 
habits,  with  the  gut-foundred  goosdom,  wherewith  they  are 
now  surcingled  and  debauched.  Wee  have  about  five  or  six  of 
them  in  our  Colony:  if  I  see  any  of  them  accidentally,  I  cannot 
cleanse  my  phansie  of  them  for  a  moneth  after.  I  have  been  a 
solitary  widdower  almost  twelve  yeares,  purposed  lately  to  make 
a  step  over  to  my  Native  Country  for  a  yoke-fellow:  but  when  I 
consider  how  women  there  have  tripe-wifed  themselves  with  their 
cladments,  I  have  no  heart  to  the  voyage,  least  their  nauseous 
shapes  and  the  Sea,  should  work  too  sorely  upon  my  stomach. 
I  speak  sadly ;  me  thinkes  it  should  breake  the  hearts  of  English 
men,  to  see  so  many  goodly  English-women  imprisoned  in  French 
Cages,  peering  out  of  their  hood-holes  for  some  men  of  mercy  to 
help  them  with  a  little  wit,  and  no  body  relieves  them. 

It  is  a  more  common  then  convenient  saying,  that  nine  Taylors 
make  a  man:  it  were  well  if  nineteene  could  make  a  woman  to 
her  minde :  if  Taylors  were  men  indeed,  well  furnished  but  with 
meer  morall  principles,  they  would  disdain  to  be  led  about  like 
Apes,  by  such  mymick  Marmosets.  It  is  a  most  unworthy  thing, 
for  men  that  have  bones  in  them,  to  spend  their  lives  in  making 
fidle-cases  for  futulous  womens  phansies;  which  are  the  very 
pettitoes  of  Infirmity,  the  giblets  of  perquisquilian  toyes.  I  am 
so  charitable  to  think,  that  most  of  that  mystery  would  worke  the 
cheerfuller  while  they  live,  if  they  might  bee  well  discharged  of 
the  tyring  slavery  of  mis-tyring  women :  it  is  no  little  labour  to  be 
continually  putting  up  English-women  into  Out-landish  caskes; 
who  if  they  be  not  shifted  anew,  once  in  a  few  months,  grow  too 
sowre  for  their  Husbands.  What  this  Trade  will  answer  for 
themselves  when  God  shall  take  measure  of  Taylors  con- 


122  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

sciences   is    beyond    my  skill    to    imagine.     There  was  a  time 
when 

The  joyning  of  the  Red-Rose  -with  the  White, 
Did  set  our  State  into  a  Damask  plight. 

But  now  our  Roses  are  turned  to  Flore  de  lices,  our  Carnations 
to  Tulips,  our  Gilliflowers  to  Dayzes,  our  City-Dames,  to  an  in- 
denominable  Quaemalry  of  overturcas'd  things.  Hee  that  makes 
Coates  for  the  Moone,  had  need  to  take  measure  every  noone: 
and  he  that  makes  for  women,  as  often,  to  keepe  them  from 
Lunacy. 

I  have  often  heard  divers  Ladies  vent  loud  feminine  complaints 
of  the  wearisome  varieties  and  chargable  changes  of  fashions:  I 
marvell  themselves  preferre  not  a  Bill  of  Redresse.  I  would 
Essex  1  Ladies  would  lead  the  Chore,  for  the  honour  of  their 
County  and  persons;  or  rather  the  thrice  honorable  Ladies  of 
the  Court,  whom  it  best  besemes :  who  may  well  presume  of  a  Le 
Roy  le  veult  from  our  sober  King,  a  Les  Seigneurs  ont  assentus 
from  our  prudent  Peers,  and  the  like  Assentus,  from  our  con 
siderate,  I  dare  not  say  wife-worne  Commons:  who  I  beleeve 
had  much  rather  passe  one  such  Bill,  than  pay  so  many  Taylors 
Bills  as  they  are  forced  to  doe. 

Most  deare  and  unparallePd  Ladies,  be  pleased  to  attempt  it: 
as  you  have  the  precellency  of  the  women  of  the  world  for  beauty 
and  feature;  so  assume  the  honour  to  give,  and  not  take  Law 
from  any  in  matter  of  attire:  if  ye  can  transact  so  faire  a 
motion  among  yourselves  unanimously,  I  dare  say,  they  that 
most  renite,  will  least  repent.  What  greater  Honour  can  your 
Honors  desire,  then  to  build  a  Promontory  president  to  all 
foraigne  Ladies,  to  deserve  so  eminently  at  the  hands  of  all  the 
English  Gentry  present  and  to  come:  and  to  confute  the  opinion 
of  all  the  wise  men  in  the  world;  who  never  thought  it  possible 
for  women  to  doe  so  good  a  work? 

If  any  man  think  I  have  spoken  rather  merrily  than  seriously 
he  is  much  mistaken,  I  have  written  what  I  write  with  all  the  in 
dignation  I  can,  and  no  more  then  I  ought.  I  confesse  I  veer'd 

1  All  the  counties  and  shires  of  England  have  had  wars  in  them  since  the 
Conquest,  but  Essex,  which  is  onely  free,  and  should  be  thankfull.  [Printed  in 
the  original  edition  as  a  marginal  gloss.] 


NATHANIEL   WARD  123 

my  tongue  to  this  kinde  of  Language  de  industria  though  un 
willingly,  supposing  those  I  speak  to  are  uncapable  of  grave  and 
rationall  arguments. 

I  desire  all  Ladies  and  Gentlewomen  to  understand  that  all 
this  while  I  intend  not  such  as  through  necessary  modesty  to  avoyd 
morose  singularity,  follow  fashions  slowly,  a  flight  shot  or  two 
off,  shewing  by  their  moderation,  that  they  rather  draw  counter- 
mont  with  their  hearts,  then  put  on  by  their  examples. 

I  point  my  pen  only  against  the  light-heel'd  beagles  that  lead 
that  chase  so  fast,  that  they  run  all  civility  out  of  breath,  against 
these  Ape-headed  pullets,  which  invent  antique  foole-fangles, 
meerly  for  fashion  and  novelty  sake. 

In  a  word,  if  I  begin  once  to  declaime  against  fashions,  let  men 
and  women  look  well  about  them,  there  is  somewhat  in  the  busi- 
nesse;  I  confesse  to  the  world,  I  never  had  grace  enough  to  be 
strict  in  that  kinde;  and  of  late  years,  I  have  found  syrrope  of 
pride  very  wholesome  in  a  due  Dos,  which  makes  mee  keep  such 
store  of  that  drugge  by  me,  that  if  any  body  comes  to  me  for  a 
question-full  or  two  about  fashions,  they  never  complain  of  me 
for  giving  them  hard  measure,  or  under-weight. 

But  I  addresse  my  self  to  those  who  can  both  hear  and  mend 
all  if  they  please :  I  seriously  fear,  if  the  pious  Parliament  doe  not 
find  a  time  to  state  fashions,  as  ancient  Parliaments  have  done  in 
part,  God  will  hardly  finde  a  time  to  state  Religion  or  Peace: 
They  are  the  surquedryes  of  pride,  the  wantonnesse  of  idlenesse, 
provoking  sins,  the  certain  prodromies  of  assured  judgement, 
Zeph.  i.  7,  8. 

It  is  beyond  all  account,  how  many  Gentlemens  and  Citizens 
estates  are  deplumed  by  their  feather-headed  wives,  what 
useful  supplies  the  pannage  of  England  would  afford  other 
Countries,  what  rich  returnes  to  it  selfe,  if  it  were  not  sliced  out 
into  male  and  female  fripperies:  and  what  a  multitude  of  mis- 
imploy'd  hands,  might  be  better  improv'd  in  some  more  manly 
Manufactures  for  the  publique  weale:  it  is  not  easily  credible, 
what  may  be  said  of  the  preterpluralities  of  Taylors  in  London: 
I  have  heard  an  honest  man  say,  that  not  long  since  there  were 
numbered  between  Temple-barre  and  Charing-Crosse,  eight  thou 
sand  of  that  Trade :  let  it  be  conjectured  by  that  proportion  how 


124  EARLY  AMERICAN   WRITERS 

many  there  are  in  and  about  London,  and  in  all  England,  they  will 
appeare  to  be  very  numerous.  If  the  Parliament  would  please  to 
mend  women,  which  their  Husbands  dare  not  doe,  there  need  not 
so  many  men  to  make  and  mend  as  there  are.  I  hope  the  present 
dolefull  estate  of  the  Realme,  will  perswade  more  strongly  to  some 
considerate  course  herein,  than  I  now  can. 

A   WORD    OF   IRELAND 

NOT  OF  THE  NATION  UNIVERSALLY,  NOR  or  ANY  MAN  IN  IT,  THAT  HATH  so 

MUCH  AS  ONE  HAIRE  OF  CHRISTIANITY  OR  HUMANITY  GROWING  ON  HIS 
HEAD  OR  BEARD,  BUT  ONELY  OF  THE  TRUCULENT  CUT-THROATS,  AND 
SUCH  AS  SHALL  TAKE  UP  ARMES  IN  THEIR  DEFENCE. 

[From  "The  Simple  Cobler"] 

These  Irish  anciently  called  Antropophagi,  man-eaters:  Have  a 
Tradition  among  them,  That  when  the  Devill  shewed  our  Saviour 
all  the  Kingdomes  of  the  Earth  and  their  glory,  that  he  would  not 
shew  him  Ireland,  but  reserved  it  for  himself e :  it  is  probably  true, 
for  he  hath  kept  it  ever  since  for  his  own  peculiar;  the  old  Fox 
foresaw  it  would  eclipse  the  glory  of  all  the  rest:  he  thought  it 
wisdome  to  keep  the  land  for  a  Boggards  for  his  unclean  spirits 
imployed  in  this  Hemisphere,  and  the  people,  to  doe  his  Son  and 
Heire,  I  mean  the  Pope,  that  service  for  which  Lewis  the  eleventh 
kept  his  B arbor  Oliver,  which  makes  them  so  blood-thirsty.  They 
are  the  very  Offall  of  men,  Dregges  of  Mankind,  Reproach  of 
Christendom,  the  Bots  that  crawle  on  the  Beasts  taile,  I  wonder 
Rome  it  self  is  not  ashamed  of  them. 

I  begge  upon  my  hands  and  knees,  that  the  Expedition  against 
them  may  be  undertaken  while  the  hearts  and  hands  of  our  Soul- 
diery  are  hot,  to  whom  I  will  be  bold  to  say  briefly :  Happy  is  he 
that  shall  reward  them  as  they  have  served  us,  and  Cursed  be  he 
that  shall  do  that  work  of  the  Lord  negligently,  Cursed  be  he 
that  holdeth  back  his  Sword  from  blood :  yea,  Cursed  be  he  that 
maketh  not  his  Sword  starke  drunk  with  Irish  blood,  that  doth  not 
recompence  them  double  for  their  hellish  treachery  to  the  Eng 
lish,  that  maketh  them  not  heaps  upon  heaps,  and  their  Country 
a  dwelling  place  for  Dragons,  an  Astonishment  to  Nations:  Let 
not  that  eye  look  for  pity,  nor  that  hand  to  be  spared,  that  pities 
or  spares  them,  and  let  him  be  accursed,  that  curseth  not  them 
bitterly. 


THOMAS   SHEPARD 

[Thomas  Shepard  was  another  of  the  famous  Massachusetts  divines  who 
were  educated  at  Emmanuel  College,  Cambridge,  and  who  were  later  driven 
from  the  Church  of  England  by  Archbishop  Laud.  He  came  to  Boston  in 
1635  at  the  age  of  thirty,  and  from  1636  till  his  death  in  1649  was  pastor 
of  the  church  at  Cambridge.  His  many  published  writings  were  almost  all 
on  religious  and  theological  subjects.  His  style  is  at  times  unusually  modern, 
and  he  is  more  readable  than  many  of  his  contemporaries,  but  none  of  his 
works  stands  out  with  especial  distinction.  His  brief  " Autobiography" 
remained  in  manuscript  until  1832,  when  it  was  privately  printed.  It  was 
first  published  in  Alexander  Young's  "Chronicles  of  the  First  Planters  of 
Massachusetts  Bay,"  in  1846. 

The  first  passage  given  below  was  quoted  by  Thomas  Prince  in  his 
"Annals  of  New  England"  from  "A  manuscript  of  Master  Shepard's 
written  in  his  own  hand."  The  text  is  that  of  the  reprint  of  the  "Annals" 
in  Edward  Arber's  "English  Garner."  The  second  selection  is  from  Shep 
ard's  pamphlet, -"The  Cleare  Sunshine  of  the  Gospell  breaking  forth  upon 
the  Indians  in  New  England,"  originally  published  in  London  in  1648,  and 
reprinted  in  the  Collections  of  the  Massachusetts  Historical  Society,  1834. 
The  selection  from  "The  Sincere  Convert"  is  from  the  first  London  edition, 
1659.  A  marginal  gloss,  which  summarizes  each  paragraph  without  com 
ment,  is  here  omitted.  The  extract  from  the  "Autobiography"  is  from 
Young's  reprint,  referred  to  above.  This  modernizes  the  spelling.] 


AN  INTERVIEW  WITH  BISHOP  LAUD 

December  16,  1630.  I  was  inhibited  from  preaching  in  the  dio 
cese  of  London  by  Doctor  LAUD,  Bishop  of  that  diocese. 

As  soon  as  I  came,  in  the  morning,  about  eight  o'clock;  fal 
ling  into  a  fit  of  rage,  he  asked  me,  "What  degree  I  had  taken 
in  the  University?"  I  answered  him,  "I  was  a  Master  of  Arts." 
He  asked,  "  Of  what  College  ?"  I  answered,  "Of  Emmanuel." 
He  asked  me,  "How  long  I  had  lived  in  his  diocese  ?  "  I  answered, 
"Three  years  and  upwards."  He  asked,  "Who  maintained  me 
all  this  while?"  Charging  me  to  deal  plainly  with  him;  adding 
withal,  that  he  had  been  more  cheated  and  equivocated  with  by 

125 


126  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

some  of  my  malignant  faction,  than  ever  was  man  by  Jesuit.  At 
the  speaking  of  which  words,  he  looked  as  though  blood  would 
have  gushed  out  of  his  face,  and  did  shake  as  if  he  had  been 
haunted  with  an  ague  fit:  to  my  apprehension,  by  reason  of  his 
extreme  malice  and  secret  venom.  I  desired  him  "to  excuse  me." 
He  fell  then  to  threaten  me,  and  withal  to  bitter  railing;  calling 
me  all  to  naught:  saying,  "You  prating  coxcomb  !  Do  you  think 
all  the  learning  is  in  your  brain?" 

He  pronounced  his  sentence  thus.  "I  charge  you,  that  you 
neither  preach,  read,  marry,  bury,  nor  exercise  any  ministerial 
function  in  any  part  of  my  diocese  !  for  if  you  do,  and  I  hear  of  it, 
I'll  be  upon  your  back;  and  follow  you  wherever  you  go,  in  any 
part  of  the  kingdom :  and  so  everlastingly  disenable  you  ! "  I  be 
sought  him  not  to  deal  so,  in  regard  of  a  poor  town.  And  here  he 
stopped  me,  in  what  I  was  going  on  to  say,  "A  poor  town !  You 
have  made  a  company  of  seditious,  factious  bedlams !  And  what 
do  you  prate  to  me  of  a  poor  town  ! "  I  prayed  him  "to  suffer  me 
to  catechize  on  the  Sabbath  days,  in  the  afternoon."  He  replied, 
"Spare  your  breath!  I  will  have  no  such  fellows  prate  in  my 
diocese !  Get  you  gone !  And  now  make  your  complaints  to 
whom  you  will !"  So  away  I  went.  And  blessed  be  GOD  !  that  I 
may  go  to  Him. 

QUESTIONS    IN  INDIAN   MEETING 

[From  "The  Cleare  Sunshine  of  the  Gospell  Breaking  forth  upon  the 
Indians  in  New  England"] 

As  soone  as  ever  the  fiercenesse  of  the  winter  was  past,  March. 
3.  1647.  I  went  out  to  Noonanetum  to  the  Indian  Lecture,  where 
Mr.  Wilson,  Mr.  Allen,  of  Dedham,  Mr.  Dunster,  beside  many  other 
Christians  were  present;  on  which  day  perceiving  divers  of  the 
Indian  women  -well  affected,  and  considering  that  their  soules 
might  stand  in  need  of  answer  to  their  scruples  as  well  as  the  mens ; 
&  yet  because  we  knew  how  unfit  it  was  for  women  so  much  as  to 
aske  questions  publiquely  immediately  by  themselves;  wee  did 
therefore  desire  them  to  propound  any  questions  they  would  be 
resolved  about  by  first  acquainting  either  their  Husbands,  or  the 
Interpreter  privately  therewith:  whereupon  we  heard  two  ques- 


THOMAS  SHEPARD  127 

tions  thus  orderly  propounded;  which  because  they  are  the  first 
that  ever  were  propounded  by  Indian  women  in  such  an  ordinance 
that  ever  wee  heard  of,  and  because  they  may  bee  otherwise  usef ull, 
I  shall  therefore  set  them  downe. 

The  first  question  was  propounded  by  the  wife  of  one  Wampooas 
a  well  affected  Indian,  viz.  ''Whether  (said  she)  do  I  pray 
"when  my  husband  prayes  if  I  speak  nothing  as  he  doth,  yet  if 
"  I  like  what  he  saith,  and  my  heart  goes  with  it  ?  (for  the  Indians 
will  many  times  pray  with  their  wives,  and  with  their  children  also 
sometime  in  the  fields)  shee  therefore  fearing  lest  prayer  should 
onely  be  an  externall  action  of  the  lips,  enquired  if  it  might  not  be 
also  an  inward  action  of  the  heart,  if  she  liked  of  what  he  said. 

The  second  question  was  propounded  by  the  Wife  of  one 
T  other  swam  pe,  her  meaning  in  her  question  (as  wee  all  perceived) 
was  this  viz.  "Whether  a  husband  should  do  well  to  pray  with 
"his  wife,  and  yet  continue  in  his  passions,  &  be  angry  with  his 
wife?  But  the  modesty  and  wisdome  of  the  woman  directed  her 
to  doe  three  things  in  one,  for  thus  shee  spake  to  us,  viz.  "  Before 
"  my  husband  did  pray  hee  was  much  angry  and  froward,  but  since 
"hee  hath  begun  to  pray  hee  was  not  angry  so  much,  but  little 
"angry:  wherein  first  shee  gave  an  honorable  testimony  of  her 
husband  and  commended  him  for  the  abatement  of  his  passion; 
secondly,  shee  gave  implicitly  a  secret  reproofe  for  what  was  past, 
and  for  somewhat  at  present  that  wras  amisse;  and  thirdly,  it  was 
intended  by  her  as  a  question  whether  her  husband  should  pray  to 
God,  and  yet  continue  in  some  unruly  passions;  but  she  wisely 
avoyded  that,  lest  it  might  reflect  too  much  upon  him,  although  wee 
desired  her  to  expresse  if  that  was  not  her  meaning. 

At  this  time  (beside  these  questions)  there  were  sundry  others 
propounded  of  very  good  use,  in  all  which  we  saw  the  Lord  Jesus 
leading  them  to  make  narrow  inquiries  into  the  things  of  God, 
that  so  they  might  see  the  reality  of  them.  I  have  heard  few  Chris 
tians  when  they  began  to  looke  toward  God,  make  more  searching 
questions  that  they  might  see  things  really,  and  not  onely  have 
a  notion  of  them:  I  forbeare  to  mention  any  of  them,  because  I 
forget  the  chief e  of  them;  onely  this  wee  tooke  notice  of  at  this 
dayes  meeting,  that  there  was  an  aged  Indian  who  proposed  his 
complaint  in  propounding  his  question  concerning  an  unruly 


128  EARLY  AMERICAN   WRITERS 

disobedient  son,  and  "what  one  should  do  with  him  in  case  of 
"  obstinacy  and  disobedience,  and  that  will  not  heare  Gods  Word, 
"  though  his  Father  command  him,  nor  will  not  forsake  his  drunk- 
"  ennesse,  though  his  father  forbid  him?  Unto  which  there  were 
many  answers  to  set  forth  the  sinne  of  disobedience  to  parents; 
which  were  the  more  quickned  and  sharpned  because  wee  knew 
that  this  rebellious  sonne  whom  the  old  man  meant,  was  by  Gods 
providence  present  at  this  Lecture :  Mr  Wilson  was  much  inlarged, 
and  spake  so  terribly,  yet  so  graciously  as  might  have  affected  a 
heart  not  quite  shut  up,  which  this  young  desperado  hearing  (who 
well  understood  the  English  tongue)  instead  of  humbling  himself 
before  the  Lords  Word,  which  touched  his  conscience  and  con 
dition  so  neare,  hee  was  filled  with  a  spirit  of  Satan,  and  as  soone 
aS  ever  Mr.  Wilsons  speech  was  ended  hee  brake  out  into  a  loud 
contemptuous  expression;  So,  saith  he:  which  we  passed  by 
without  speaking  againe,  leaving  the  Word  with  him,  which  we 
knew  would  one  day  take  its  effect  one  way  or  other  upon  him. 

THE  SENTENCE  AT  THE  LAST  JUDGMENT 

[From  "The  Sincere  Convert"] 

4.  In  regard  of  the  fearful  sentence  that  then  shall  be  passed 
upon  thee ;  Depart  thou  cursed  creature  into  everlasting  fire,  pre 
pared  for  the  devil  and  his  Angels.  Thou  shalt  then  cry  out.  Oh 
mercy,  Lord !  Oh  a  little  mercy !  No,  will  the  Lord  Jesus  say, 
I  did  indeed  once  offer  it  you,  but  you  refused,  therefore  Depart. 
Then  thou  shalt  plead  again,  Lord  if  I  must  depart,  yet  blesse  me 
before  I  go:  No,  no,  Depart  thou  cursed.  Oh  but,  Lord,  If  I 
must  depart  cursed,  let  me  go  into  some  good  place :  No,  depart 
thou  cursed  into  hell  fire.  Oh  Lord,  that's  a  torment  I  cannot  bear ; 
but  if  it  must  be  so,  Lord,  let  me  come  out  again  quickly;  No, 
depart  thou  cursed  into  everlasting  fire.  Oh  Lord,  if  this  be  thy 
pleasure,  that  here  I  must  abide,  let  me  have  good  company  with 
me.  No  depart  thou  cursed  into  everlasting  fire  prepared  for  the 
Devil  and  his  Angels.  This  shall  be  thy  sentence.  The  hearing 
of  which  may  make  the  rocks  to  rent,  so  that,  go  on  in  thy  sin  and 
prosper,  despise  and  scoff  at  Gods  Ministers  and  prosper,  abhorre 


THOMAS  SHEPARD  129 

the  power  and  practise  of  Religion,  as  a  too  precise  course,  and 
prosper;  yet  know  it,  there  will  a  day  come,  when  thou  shalt  meet 
with  a  dreadfull  Judge,  a  dolefull  sentence.  Now  is  thy  day  of 
sinning,  but  God  will  have  shortly  his  day  of  condemning. 

5.  When  the  Judgement  day  is  done  then  the  fearfull  wrath  of 
God  shall  be  poured  out,  and  piled  upon  their  bodies  and  soules, 
and  the  breath  of  the  Lord,  like  a  stream  of  brimstone  shall  kindle 
it,  and  here  thou  shalt  lie  burning,  and  none  shall  ever  quench  it. 
This  is  the  execution  of  a  sinner  after  judgement,  Rev.  21.8. 

Now  this  wrath  of  God  consists  in  these  things. 

1.  Thy  soul  shall  be  banished  from  the  face,  and  blessed  sweet 
presence  of  God  and  Christ,  and  thou  shalt  never  see  the  face  of 
God  more.     It  is  said  Acts  20.  that  they  wept  sore,  because  they 
should  see  Pauls  face  no  more.     Oh,  thou  shalt  never  see  the  face  of 
God,  Christ,  Saints  and  Angels  more.     Oh,  heavy  doom  to  famish 
and  pine  away  for  ever  without  one  bit  of  bread  to  comfort  thee, 
one  smile  of  God  to  refresh  thee !     Men  that  have  their  sores  run 
ning  upon  them,  must  be  shut  up  from  the  presence  of  men  sound 
and  hole.     Oh,  thy  sinnes  like  plague-sores,  run  on  thee,  therefore 
thou  must  be  shut  out  like  a  Dog  from  the  presence  of  God  and  all 
his  people,  2  Thes,  i.  9. 

2.  God  shall  set  himself  like  a  consuming  infinite  fire  against 
thee,  and  tread  thee  under  his  feet,  who  hast  by  sin  trod  him  & 
his  glory  under  foot  all  thy  life.     A  man  may  devise  exquisite 
torments  for  another,  and  great  power  may  make  a  little  stick  to 
lay  on  heavy  strokes:    but  great  power  stirred  up  to  strike  from 
great  fury  and  wrath,  makes  the  stroak  deadly:   I  tell  thee,  all  the 
wisdom  of  God  shall  then  be  set  against  thee  to  devise  torments 
for  thee,  Mich.  2.  3.     There  was  never  such  wrath  felt  or  con 
ceived,  as  the  Lord  hath  devised  against  thee,  that  livest  and  diest 
in  thy  natural  estate :   hence  it  is  called  wrath  to  come,  I  TJiess.  I. 
ult.     The    torment  which    wisdome   shall  devise,  the  Almighty 
power  of  God  shall  inflict  upon  thee,  so  as  there  was  never  such 
power  seen  in  making  the  world,  as  in  holding  a  poor  creature  under 
this  wrath,  that  holds  up  the  soul  in  being  with  one  hand,  and  beats 
it  with  the  other,  ever  burning  like  fire  against  a  creature,  and  yet, 
that  creature  never  burnt  up,  Rom.  9.  22.     Think  not  this  cruelty, 
it's  justice;   what  cares  God  for  a  vile  WTetch,  whom  nothing  can 

K 


130  EARLY  AMERICAN   WRITERS 

make  good  while  it  lives  ?  If  we  have  been  long  in  hewing  a  block, 
and  we  can  make  no  meet  vessel  of  it,  put  it  to  no  good  use  for 
our  selves,  we* cast  it  into  the  fire:  God  heweth  thee  by  Sermons, 
sickness,  losses,  and  crosses,  sudden  death,  mercies  and  miseries, 
yet  nothing  makes  the  better;  what  should  God  do  with  thee,  but 
cast  thee  hence?  Oh,  consider  of  this  wrath  before  you  feel  it. 
I  had  rather  have  all  the  world  burning  about  my  ears,  than  to 
have  one  blasting  frown  from  the  blessed  face  of  an  infinite  and 
dreadful  God.  Thou  canst  not  endure  the  torments  of  a  little 
Kitchin  fire  on  the  tip  of  thy  finger,  not  one  half  hour  together; 
how  wilt  thou  bear  the  fury  of  this  infinite,  endlesse,  consuming 
fire  in  body  and  soul  throughout  all  eternity  ? 

3.  The  never-dying  worm  of  a  guilty  conscience  shall  torment 
thee,  as  if  thou  hadst  swallowed  down  a  living  poisonfull  snake, 
which  shall  lie  gnawing  and  biting  thine  heart  for  sin  past,  day 
and  night.  And  this  worm  shall  torment  by  shewing  the  cause  of 
thy  misery,  that  is,  that  thou  didst  never  care  for  him  that  would 
have  saved  thee.  By  shewing  thee  also  thy  sins  against  the  Law, 
by  shewing  thee  thy  sloath,  whereby  thy  happiness  is  lost.  Then 
shall  thy  conscience  gnaw  to  think  so  many  nights  I  went  to  bed 
without  prayer,  and  so  many  dayes  and  hours  I  spent  in  feasting  and 
foolish  sporting.  Oh,  if  I  had  spent  half  that  time,  now  mispent, 
in  praying,  in  mourning,  in  meditation,  yonder  in  Heaven  had  I 
been.  By  shewing  thee  also  the  means  that  thou  once  hadst  to 
avoid  this  misery ;  Such  a  Minister  I  heard  once,  that  told  me  of 
my  particular  sins,  as  if  he  had  been  told  of  me ;  such  a  friend  per- 
swaded  me  once  to  turn  over  a  new  leaf:  I  remember  so  many 
knocks  God  gave  at  this  Iron  heart  of  mine,  so  many  mercies  the 
Lord  sent;  but  oh,  no  meanes  could  prevail  with  me.  Lastly, 
by  shewing  thee  how  easily  thou  mightest  have  avoided  all  these 
miseries.  Oh,  once  I  was  almost  perswaded  to  be  a  Christian, 
but  I  suffered  my  heart  to  grow  dead,  and  fell  to  loose  company, 
and  so  lost  all.  The  Lord  Jesus  came  unto  my  door  and  knocked, 
and  if  I  had  done  that  for  Christ  which  I  did  for  the  Devil  many  a 
time  to  open  at  his  knocks,  I  had  been  saved.  A  thousand  such 
*>bites  will  this  worm  give  at  thine  heart,  which  shall  make  thee  cry 
out,  Oh  time,  time !  Oh  Sermons,  Sermons !  Oh  my  hopes  and 
my  helps  are  now  lost,  that  once  I  had  to  save  my  lost  soul ! 


THOMAS  SHEPARD  131 

4.  Thou  shalt  take  up  thy  lodging  for  ever  with  Devils,  and  they 
shall  be  thy  companions:    him  thou  hast  served  here,  with  him 
must  thou  dwell  there.     It  scares  men  out  of  their  wits  almost, 
to  see  the  Devil,  as  they  think,  when  they  be  alone ;  but  what  hor- 
rour  shall  fill  thy  soul,  when  thou  shalt  be  banished  from  Angels 
society,  and  come  into  the  fellowship  of  Devils  for  ever? 

5.  Thou  shalt  be  filled  with  finall  despair.    If  a  man  be  grievously 
sick,  it  comforts  him  to  think  it  will  not  last  long.     But  if  the 
Physitian  tell  him  he  must  live  all  his  life  time  in  this  extreamity, 
he  thinks  the  poorest  beggar  in  a  better  estate  than  himself.     Oh  to 
think  when  thou  hast  been  millions  of  years  in  thy  sorrows,  then 
thou  art  no  nearer  thy  end  of  bearing  thy  misery,  then  at  the  first 
coming  in:   Oh  I  might  once  have  had  mercy  and  Christ,  but  no 
hope  now  ever  to  have  one  glimpse  of  his  face,  or  one  good  look  from 
him  any  more. 

6.  Thou  shalt  vomit  out  blasphemous  oathes  and  curses  in  the 
face  of  God  the  Father  for  ever,  and  curse  God  that  never  elected 
thee,  and  curse  the  Lord  Jesus  that  never  shed  one  drop  of  bloud 
to  redeem  thee,  and  curse  God  the  holy  Ghost  that  passed  by  thee 
and  never  called  thee,  Rev.  16.  9.    And  here  thou  shalt  lie  and  weep, 
and  gnash  thy  teeth  in  spight  against  God  and  thy  self,  and  roar, 
and  stamp,  and  grow  mad,  that  there  thou  must  lie  under  the  curse 
of  God  for  ever.     Thus  (I  say)  thou  shalt  lie  blaspheming,  with 
Gods  wrath  like  a  pile  of  fire  on  thy  soul  burning,  and  floods,  nay 
seas,  nay  more,  seas  of  tears  (for  thou  shalt  forever  lie  weeping) 
shall  never  quench  it.     And  here  which  way  soever  thou  lookest 
thou  shalt  see  matter  of  everlasting  grief.      Look  up  to  Heaven, 
and  there  thou  shalt  see  (Oh)  that  God  is  for  ever  gone.     Look 
about  thee,  thou  shalt  see  Devils  quaking,  cursing  God;    and 
thousands,  nay  millions  of  sinfull,  damned  creatures  crying  and 
roaring  out  with  dolefull  shriekings:   Oh  the  day  that  ever  I  was 
born!     Look  within  thee,  there  is  a  guilty  conscience  gnawing, 
Look  to  time  past;    Oh  those  golden  days  of   grace,  and  sweet 
seasons  of  mercy  are  quite  lost  and  gone !     Look  to  time  to  come, 
there  thou  shalt  behold  evils,  troops  and  swarms  of  sorrows,  and 
woes,  and  raging  waves,  and  billows  of  wrath  coming  roaring  upon 
thee.     Look  to  time  present,  Oh  not  one  hour  or  moment  of  ease 
or  refreshing,  but  all  curses  meet  together,  and  feeding  upon  one 


132  EARLY  AMERICAN  WRITERS 

poor  lost  immortal  soul,  that  never  can  be  recovered  again !  No 
God,  no  Christ,  no  Spirit  to  comfort  thee,  no  Minister  to  preach 
unto  thee,  no  friend  to  wipe  away  thy  continual  Tears,  no  Sun 
to  shine  upon  thee,  not  a  bit  of  bread,  not  one  drop  of  water  to 
cool  thy  tongue. 

This  is  the  misery  of  every  naturall  man. 


ON   THE   DEATH    OF   HIS    SECOND    WIFE 

[From  the  "Autobiography"] 

But  the  Lord  hath  not  been  wont  to  let  me  live  long  without 
some  affliction  or  other;  and  yet  ever  mixed  with  some  mercy. 
And  therefore,  April  the  2d,  1646,  as  he  gave  me  another  son, 
John,  so  he  took  away  my  most  dear,  precious,  meek,  and  loving 
wife,  in  child-bed,  after  three  weeks'  lying-in;  having  left  behind 
her  two  hopeful  branches,  my  dear  children,  Samuel  and  John. 
This  affliction  was  very  heavy  to  me ;  for  in  it  the  Lord  seemed  to 
withdraw  his  tender  care  for  me  and  mine,  which  he  graciously 
manifested  by  my  dear  wife ;  also  refused  to  hear  prayer,  when  I 
did  think  he  would  have  hearkened  and  let  me  see  his  beauty  in 
the  land  of  the  living,  in  restoring  of  her  to  health  again;  also,  in 
taking  her  away  in  the  prime  of  her  life,  when  she  might  have  lived 
to  have  glorified  the  Lord  long ;  also,  in  threatening  me  to  proceed 
in  rooting  out  my  family,  and  that  he  would  not  stop,  having  be 
gun  here,  as  in  Eli,  for  not  being  zealous  enough  against  the  sins 
of  his  sons.  And  I  saw  that  if  I  had  profited  by  former  afflictions 
of  this  nature,  I  should  not  have  had  this  scourge.  But  I  am  the 
Lord's,  and  He  may  do  with  me  what  he  will.  He  did  teach  me  to 
prize  a  little  grace,  gained  by  a  cross,  as  a  sufficient  recompense 
for  all  outward  losses. 

But  this  loss  was  very  great.  She  was  a  woman  of  incom 
parable  meekness  of  spirit,  toward  myself  especially,  and  very 
loving;  of  great  prudence  to  take  care  for  and  order  my  family 
affairs,  being  neither  too  lavish  nor  sordid  in  anything,  so  that  I 
knew  not  what  was  under  her  hands.  She  had  an  excellency  to 
reprove  for  sin,  and  discern  the  evils  of  men.  She  loved  God's 
people  dearly,  and  [was]  studious  to  profit  by  their  fellowship, 


THOMAS  SHEPARD  133 

and  therefore  loved  their  company.  She  loved  God's  word 
exceedingly,  and  hence  was  glad  she  could  read  my  notes,  which 
she  had  to  muse  on  every  week.  She  had  a  spirit  of  prayer,  beyond 
ordinary  of  her  time  and  experience.  She  was  fit  to  die  long 
before  she  did  die,  even  after  the  death  of  her  first-born,  which 
was  a  great  affliction  to  her.  But  her  work  not  being  done  then, 
she  lived  almost  nine  years  with  me,  and  was  the  comfort  of  my 
life  to  me ;  and  the  last  sacrament  before  her  lying-in,  seemed  to  be 
full  of  Christ,  and  thereby  fitted  for  heaven.  She  did  oft  say  she 
should  not  outlive  this  child;  and  when  her  fever  first  began,  by 
taking  some  cold,  she  told  me  so,  that  we  should  love  exceedingly 
together,  because  we  should  not  live  long  together.  Her  fever 
took  away  her  sleep ;  want  of  sleep  wrought  much  distemper  in  her 
head,  and  filled  it  with  fantasies  and  distractions,  but  without 
raging.  The  night  before  she  died,  she  had  about  six  hours' 
unquiet  sleep.  But  that  so  cooled  and  settled  her  head,  that  when 
she  knew  none  else,  so  as  to  speak  to  them,  yet  she  knew  Jesus 
Christ,  and  could  speak  to  him;  and  therefore,  as  soon  as  she 
awakened  out  of  sleep,  she  brake  out  into  a  most  heavenly,  heart 
breaking  prayer,  after  Christ,  her  dear  Redeemer,  for  the  spirit  of 
life,  and  so  continued  praying  until  the  last  hour  of  her  death, 
"  Lord,  though  I  [am]  unworthy,  Lord,  one  word,  one  word,"  &c. ; 
and  so  gave  up  the  ghost. 

Thus  God  hath  visited  and  scourged  me  for  my  sins,  and  sought 
to  wean  me  from  this  world.  But  I  have  ever  found  it  a  difficult 
thing  to  profit  even  but  a  little  by  the  sorest  and  sharpest  afflictions. 


EDWARD   JOHNSON 

[Captain  Edward  Johnson's  one  book,  "The  Wonder- Working  Provi 
dence,"  stands  as  an  example  of  literary  composition  by  a  vigorous  and 
devout,  but  uncultured,  Puritan  layman.  The  author  was  born  in  Kent  in 
1599,  came  to  America  with  Governor  Winthrop  in  1630,  aided  in  founding 
Woburn,  Mass.,  in  1642,  and  from  that  time  till  his  death  in  1672  was  promi 
nent  in  the  affairs  of  the  town  and  the  colony.  His  book,  first  published 
anonymously  in  London  in  1654,  was  sedately  designated  on  the  title-page 
as  "A  History  of  New  England  from  the  English  planting  in  the  Yeere  1628 
untill  the  Yeere  1652,"  but  it  has  come  to  be  all  but  universally  known  by  the 
running  title  of  "The  Wonder-Working  Providence  of  Sions  Saviour  in 
New  England."  A  later  edition  was  prefixed  by  a  title-page  erroneously 
ascribing  the  book  to  Sir  Ferdinando  Gorges. 

Captain  Johnson  wrote  with  the  object  of  showing  the  immediate  hand 
of  God  in  the  planting  and  development  of  New  England.  He  mentions 
the  results  of  each  annual  election  for  governor  and  deputy-governor,  records 
in  detail  the  founding  of  each  new  church,  and  narrates  other  events  of  in 
terest.  His  work  is,  however,  more  valuable  as  a  literary  curiosity  than  as 
history.  His  freedom  from  the  pedantry  that  characterized  his  more  learned 
contemporaries,  the  freshness  and  originality  of  his  diction  and  figures  of 
speech,  his  formless  sentences,  perhaps  made  more  rude  by  an  unintelligent 
printer,  all  give  the  book  a  delightful  individuality.  Even  the  spelling  is 
more  than  usually  original.  It  is  a  pleasure  to  meet  the  Mohicans  as  "Maw- 
higgins,"  or  to  find  the  good  governor  of  Massachusetts  designated  as  "  John 
Indicat."  Not  the  least  amusing  part  of  the  book  are  the  attempts  at  verse, 
which  the  author  introduces  for  the  especial  commemoration  of  men  and 
events.  But  while  the  reader  finds  much  in  "The  Wonder-Working  Provi 
dence"  that  is  ridiculous,  he  should  notice  that  the  author  always  reveals 
himself  as  a  man  worthy  of  respect,  and  to  some  extent  of  admiration. 

The  selections  follow  the  reprint  of  "The  Wonder-Working  Providence" 
in  the  Collections  of  the  Massachusetts  Historical  Society,  Second  Series.] 

OF  THE  FIRST  PREPARATION  OF  THE  MARCHANT 
ADVENTURERS,    IN   THE   MATTACHUSETS 

[Chap.  IX,  Book  I,  of  "The  Wonder-Working  Providence  of  Sions  Saviour 

in  New  England"] 

Now  it  will  be  time  to  returne  againe  to  England,  to  speake 
further  of  the  people  that  wee  left  in  way  of  preparation ;  who  in 


EDWARD   JOHNSON  135 

the  yeare  1628,  sent  forth  some  store  of  servants  to  provide  against 
the  wants  of  a  Desart  Wildernesse,  amongst  whom  came  over  a 
mixt  multitude,  insomuch  that  very  little  appeared  of  the  following 
worke,  onely  the  much  honoured  Mr.  John  Indicat,  came  over 
with  them  to  governe,  a  fit  instrument  to  begin  this  Wildernesse- 
worke,  of  courage  bold  undanted,  yet  sociable,  and  of  a  cheerfull 
spirit,  loving  and  austere,  applying  himselfe  to  either  as  occasion 
served.  And  now  let  no  man  be  offended  at  the  Authors  rude 
Verse,  penned  of  purpose  to  keepe  in  memory  the  Names  of  such 
Worthies  as  Christ  made  strong  for  himselfe,  in  this  unwonted 
worke  of  his. 


John  Endicat  twice  Gover[n]our  of  the  English,  inhabiting  the  Mattachusets 
Bay  in  N.  England 

Strong  valiant  John  wilt  thou  march  on,  and  take  up  station  first, 

Christ  cal'd  hath  thee,  his  Souldier  be,  and  faile  not  of  thy  trust; 
Wilderness  wants  Christs  grace  supplants,  then  plant  his  Churches  pure, 

With  Tongues  gifted,  and  graces  led,  help  thou  to  his  procure; 
Undanted  thou  wilt  not  allow,  Malignant  men  to  wast: 

Christs  Vineyard  heere,  whose  grace  should  cheer,  his  well-beloved's  tast. 
Then  honoured  be,  thy  Christ  hath  thee  their  Generall  promoted: 

To  shew  their  love,  in  place  above,  his  people  have  thee  voted. 
Yet  must  thou  fall,  to  grave  with  all  the  Nobles  of  the  Earth, 

Thou  rotting  worme,  to  dust  must  turn,  and  worse  but  for  new  birth. 

The  place  picked  out  by  this  People  to  settle  themselves  in,  was 
in  the  bosome  of  the  out-stretched  arme  of  Cape  Anne,  now  called 
Gloster,  but  at  the  place  of  their  abode  they  began  to  build  a 
Town,  which  is  called  Salem,  after  some  little  space  of  time  having 
made  tryall  of  the  Sordid  spirits  of  the  Neighbouring  Indians,  the 
most  bold  among  them  began  to  gather  to  divers  places,  which  they 
began  to  take  up  for  their  owne,  those  that  were  sent  over  servants, 
having  itching  desires  after  novelties,  found  a  reddier  way  to  make 
an  end  of  their  Masters  provision,  then  they  could  find  meanes  to 
get  more ;  They  that  came  over  their  own  men  had  but  little  left 
to  feed  on,  and  most  began  to  repent  when  their  strong  Beere  and 
full  cups  ran  as  small  as  water  in  a  large  Land,  but  little  Corne, 
and  the  poore  Indian  so  far  from  relieving  them,  that  they  were 
forced  to  lengthen  out  their  owne  food  with  Acorns,  and  that 


136  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

which  added  to  their  present  distracted  thoughts,  the  Ditch  be- 
tweene  England  and  their  now  place  of  abode  was  so  wide,  that  they 
could  not  leap  over  with  a  lope-staffe,  yet  some  delighting  their 
Eye  with  the  rarity  of  things  present,  and  feeding  their  fancies 
with  new  discoveries  at  the  Springs  approach,  they  made  shift  to 
rub  out  the  Winters  cold  by  the  Fire-side,  having  fuell  enough 
growing  at  their  very  doores,  turning  down  many  a  drop  of  the 
Bottell,  and  burning  Tobacco  with  all  the  ease  they  could,  dis 
coursing  betweene  one  while  and  another,  of  the  great  progresse 
they  would  make  after  the  Summers-Sun  had  changed  the  Earths 
white  furr'd  Gowne  into  a  greene  Mantell.  Now  the  vernall  of 
thirty  [twenty]  nine  being  come,  they  addrest  themselves  to  coste 
it  as  far  as  they  durst  for  feare  of  losing  themselves,  or  falling  into 
the  hands  of  unknown  Indians,  being  kept  in  awe  by  a  report  of 
a  cruell  people,  not  far  of  called  the  Tarratines.  All  this  while 
little  like-lihood  there  was  building  the  Temple  for  Gods  worship, 
there  being  only  two  that  began  to  hew  stones  in  the  Mountaines, 
the  one  named  Mr.  Bright,  and  the  other  Mr.  Blaxton,  and  one  of 
them  began  to  build,  but  when  they  saw  all  sorts  of  stones  would 
not  fit  in  the  building,  as  they  supposed,  the  one  betooke  him  to  the 
Seas  againe,  and  the  other  to  till  the  Land,  retaining  no  simbole  of 
his  former  profession,  but  a  Canonicall  Coate. 


OF  THE  VOLUNTARY  BANISHMENT,  CHOSEN  BY 
THIS  PEOPLE  OF  CHRIST,  AND  THEIR  LAST 
FAREWELL  TAKEN  OF  THEIR  COUNTRY  AND 
FRIENDS 

[Chap.  XII,  Book  I,  of  "The  Wonder- Working  Providence"] 

And  now  behold  the  severall  Regiments  of  these  Souldiers  of 
Christ,  as  they  are  shipped  for  his  service  in  the  Western  World, 
part  thereof  being  come  to  the  Towne  and  Port  of  Southampton 
in  England,  where  they  were  to  be  shipped,  that  the[y]  might 
prosecute  this  designe  to  the  full,  one  Ship  called  the  Eagle,  they 
wholly  purchase,  and  many  more  they  hire,  filling  them  with  the 
seede  of  man  and  beast  to  sow  this  yet  untilled  Wildernesse  with- 
all,  making  sale  of  such  Land  as  they  possesse,  to  the  great  ad- 


EDWARD   JOHNSON  137 

miration  of  their  Friends  and  Acquaintance,  who  thus  expostulate 
with  them,  What,  will  not  the  large  income  of  your  yearly  revenue 
content  you,  which  in  all  reason  cannot  chuse  but  be  more  ad 
vantageous  both  to  you  and  yours,  then  all  that  Rocky  Wildernesse, 
whither  you  are  going,  to  run  the  hazard  of  your  life  ?  Have  you 
not  here  your  Tables  filled  with  great  variety  of  Foode,  your 
Coffers  filled  with  Coyne,  your  Houses  beautifully  built  and  filled 
with  all  rich  Furniture?  (or  otherwise)  have  you  not  such  a 
gainfull  Trade  as  none  the  like  in  the  Towne  where  you  live  ?  Are 
you  not  inriched  daily?  Are  not  your  Children  very  well  pro 
vided  for  as  they  come  to  years  ?  (nay)  may  you  not  here  as  pithily 
practise  the  two  chiefe  Duties  of  a  Christian  (if  Christ  give  strength) 
namely  Mortification  and  Sanctification  as  in  any  place  of  the 
World  ?  WThat  helps  can  you  have  there  that  you  must  not  carry 
from  hence?  With  bold  resolvednesse  these  stout  Souldiers  of 
Christ  reply;  as  Death,  the  King  of  terror  with  all  his  dreadfull 
attendance  inhumane  and  barbarous,  tortures  doubled  and  trebled 
by  all  the  infernall  furies  have  appeared  but  light  and  momentary 
to  the  Souldiers  of  Christ  Jesus,  so  also  the  Pleasure,  Profits  and 
Honours  of  this  World  set  forth  in  their  most  glorious  splendor, 
and  magnitude  by  the  alluring  Lady  of  Delight,  proffering  pleasant 
embraces,  cannot  intice  with  her  Syren  Songs,  such  Souldiers  of 
Christ,  whose  aymes  are  elevated  by  him,  many  Millions  above 
that  brave  Warrier  Ulysses. 

Now  seeing  all  can  be  said  will  but  barely  set  forth  the  immove- 
able  Resolutions  that  Christ  continued  in  these  men ;  Passe  on  and 
attend  with  teares,  if  thou  hast  any,  the  following  discourse,  while 
these  Men,  Women  and  Children  are  taking  their  last  farewell  of 
their  Native  Country,  Kindred,  Friends  and  Acquaintance,  while 
the  Ships  attend  them ;  Many  make  choise  of  some  solitary  place 
to  eccho  out  their  bowell-breaking  affections  in  bidding  their 
Friends  farewell,  deare  friends  (sayes  one)  as  neare  as  my  owne 
soule  doth  thy  love  lodge  in  my  brest,  with  thought  of  the  heart 
burning  Ravishments,  that  thy  Heavenly  speeches  have  wrought; 
my  melting  soule  is  poured  out  at  present  with  these  words,  both 
of  them  had  their  farther  speach  strangled  from  the  depth  of  their 
inward  dolor,  with  breast-breaking  sobs,  till  leaning  their  heads 
each  on  others  shoulders,  they  let  fall  the  salt-dropping  dews  of 


138  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

vehement  affection,  striving  to  exceede  one  another,  much  like  the 
departure  of  David  and  Jonathan :  having  a  little  eased  their  hearts 
with  the  still  streames  of  Teares,  they  recovered  speech  againe. 
Ah  !  my  much  honoured  friend,  hath  Christ  given  thee  so  great  a 
charge  as  to  be  Leader  of  his  People  into  that  far  remote,  and  vast 
Wildernesse,  I,  oh,  and  alas  thou  must  die  there  and  never  shall  I 
see  thy  Face  in  the  flesh  againe,  wert  thou  called  to  so  great  a  taske 
as  to  passe  the  pretious  Ocean,  and  hazard  thy  person  in  Battell 
against  thousands  of  Malignant  Enemies  there  ?  there  were  hopes 
of  thy  return  with  triumph,  but  now  after  two,  three,  or  foure 
moneths  spent  with  daily  expectation  of  swallowing  Waves,  and 
cruell  Pirates,  you  are  to  be  landed  among  barbarous  Indians, 
famous  for  nothing  but  cruelty,  where  you  are  like  to  spend  your 
days  in  a  famishing  condition  for  a  long  space;  Scarce  had  he 
uttered  this,  but  presently  hee  lockes  his  friend  fast  in  his  armes, 
holding  each  other  thus  for  some  space  of  time,  they  weepe  againe, 
But  as  Paul  to  his  beloved  flock :  the  other  replies  what  doe  you 
weeping  and  breaking  my  heart  ?  I  am  now  prest  for  the  service 
of  our  Lord  Christ,  to  re-build  the  most  glorious  Edifice  of  Mount 
Sion  in  a  Wildernesse,  and  as  John  Baptist,  I  must  cry  prepare  yee 
the  way  of  the  Lord,  make  his  paths  strait,  for  behold  hee  is  com- 
ming  againe,  hee  is  comming  to  destroy  Antichrist,  and  give  the 
whore  double  to  drinke  the  very  dregs  of  his  wrath. 

Then  my  deare  friend  unfold  thy  hands,  for  thou  and  I  have 
much  worke  to  doe,  I  and  all  Christian  Souldiers  the  World 
throughout,  then  hand  in  hand  they  leade  each  other  to  the  Sandy- 
banks  of  the  brinish  Ocean,  when  clenching  their  hands  fast, 
they  unloose  not  til  inforced  to  wipe  their  watery-eyes,  whose  con 
stant  streames  forced  a  watery-path  upon  their  Cheeks,  which  to 
hide  from  the  eyes  of  others  they  shun  society  for  a  time,  but  being 
called  by  occasion,  whose  bauld  back-part  none  can  lay  hold  one ; 
They  thrust  in  among  the  throng  now  ready  to  take  Ship,  where 
they  beheld  the  like  affections  with  their  own  among  divers  Re 
lations,  Husbands  and  Wives  with  mutuall  consent  are  now  pur 
posed  to  part  for  a  time  900  Leagues  asunder,  since  some  provi 
dence  at  present  will  not  suffer  them  to  goe  together,  they  resolve 
their  tender  affections  shall  not  hinder  this  worke  of  Christ,  the 
new  Married  and  betrothed  man,  exempt  by  the  Law  of  God  from 


EDWARD   JOHNSON  139 

war,  now  will  not  claime  their  priviledge,  but  being  constrained 
by  the  Love  of  Christ,  lock  up  their  naturall  affections  for  a  time, 
till  the  Lord  shall  be  pleased  to  give  them  a  meeting  in  this  West- 
erne  World,  sweetly  mixing  it  with  spirituall  love,  in  the  meane 
time  many  Fathers  now  take  their  yong  Samuells,  and  give  them 
to  this  service  of  Christ  all  their  Lives.  Brethren,  Sisters,  Unkles, 
Nephewes,  Neeces,  together  with  all  Kindred  of  bloud  that  binds 
the  bowells  of  affection  in  a  true  Lovers  knot,  can  now  take  their 
last  farewell,  each  of  other,  although  naturall  affection  will  still 
claime  her  right,  and  manifest  her  selfe  to  bee  in  the  body  by 
looking  out  at  the  Windowes  in  a  mournefull  manner  among  this 
company,  thus  disposed  doth  many  Reverend  and  godly  Pastors 
of  Christ  present  themselves,  some  in  a  Seamans  Habit,  and  their 
scattered  sheepe  comming  as  a  poore  Convoy  loftily  take  their 
leave  of  them  as  followeth,  what  dolefull  dayes  are  these,  when  the 
best  choise  our  Orthodox  Ministers  can  make  is  to  take  up  a  per- 
petuall  banishment  from  their  native  soile,  together  with  their 
Wives  and  Children,  wee  their  poore  sheepe  they  may  not  feede,  but 
by  stoledred  should  they  abide  here.  Lord  Christ,  here  they  are 
at  thy  command,  they  go,  this  is  the  doore  thou  hast  opened  upon 
our  earnest  request,  and  we  hope  it  shall  never  be  shut :  For  Eng- 
lands  sake  they  are  going  from  England  to  pray  without  ceasing 
for  England,  O  England !  thou  shalt  finde  New  England  prayers 
prevailing  with  their  God  for  thee,  but  now  woe  alas,  what  great 
hardship  must  these  our  indeared  Pastors  indure  for  a  long  season, 
with  these  words  they  lift  up  their  voyces  and  wept,  adding  many 
drops  of  salt  liquor  to  the  ebbing  Ocean ;  Then  shaking  hands  they 
bid  adue  with  much  cordiall  affection  to  all  their  Brethren,  and 
Sisters  in  Christ,  yet  now  the  Scorne  and  Derision  of  those  times, 
and  for  this  their  great  enterprise  counted  as  so  many  crackt- 
braines,  but  Christ  will  make  all  the  Earth  know  the  wisdome  he 
hath  indued  them  with,  shall  over-top  all  the  humane  policy  in 
the  World,  as  the  sequell  wee  hope  will  shew;  Thus  much  shall 
suffice  in  generall  to  speak  of  their  peoples  farewell  they  tooke 
from  time  to  time  of  their  Country  and  Friends. 


140  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

OF  THE  GREAT  CHEEREFULNESSE  OF  THEIR 
SOULDIERS  OF  CHRIST,  IN  AND  UNDER  THE 
PENURIES  OF  A  WILDERNESSE 

[Chap.  XXIV,  Book  I,  of  "  The  Wonder-Working  Providence  "] 

These  were  the  beginnings  of  these  resolute  Souldiers  of  Christ 
Jesus  in  the  yeare,  1631.  Even  to  lay  the  foundation  of  their 
severall  Churches  of  Christ,  built  onely  on  him  as  their  chiefe 
Corner  Stone.  But  as  his  chosen  Israel  met  with  many  difficulties 
after  their  returne  from  Captivity,  in  building  the  Temple  and 
City,  which  they  valiantly  waded  through ;  So  these  weake  wormes 
(Oh  Christ  to  thy  praise  be  it  spoken,)  were  most  wonderfully 
holpen  in  such  distresses,  as  to  appearance  of  man  seemed  to 
be  both  hopelesse,  and  helplesse,  threatening  destruction  to  the 
whole  building,  and  far  from  accomplishing  such  great  things 
as  you  have  in  part  scene  already,  and  shall  in  the  following  dis 
course  (God  willing)  see  more  abundantly,  adding  a  strong  testi 
mony  to  the  work,  that  as  it  was  begun  by  Christ,  so  hath  it  beene 
carried  on  by  him,  and  shall  to  the  admiration  of  the  whole  World 
be  perfected  in  his  time,  and  unlesse  men  will  be  wilfully  blinde, 
they  must  needs  see  and  confesse  the  same,  and  that  the  influence 
thereof  hath  already  run  from  one  end  of  the  Earth  unto  the 
other. 

This  yeare  1631  John  Winthrop  Esq.  was  chosen  Governour, 
pickt  out  for  the  worke,bythe  provident  hand  of  the  most  high,  and 
inabled  with  gifts  accordingly,  then  all  the  folke  of  Christ,  who 
have  scene  his  face  and  beene  partaker  of  the  same,  remember 
him  in  this  following  Meeter. 

John  Winthrope  Esq.  Eleven  times  Governour  of  the  English  Nation,  inhabit 
ing  the  Mattacusets  Bay  in  New  England 

Why  leavest  thou  John,  thy  station,  in  Suffolk,  thy  own  soile, 

Christ  will  have  thee  a  pillar  be,  for's  people  thou  must  toyle, 
He  chang'd  thy  heart,  then  take  his  part,  'gainst  prelates  proud  invading. 

(His  Kingly  throne)  set  up  alone,  in  wildernesse  their  shading. 
His  little  flocks  from  Prelates  knocks,  twice  ten  years  rul'd  thou  hast, 

With  civill  sword  at  Christs  word  and  eleven  times  been  trast. 
By  Name  and  Note,  with  peoples  vote,  their  Governour  to  be. 

Thy  means  hast  spent,  'twas  therefore  lent,  to  raise  this  work  by  thee. 


EDWARD  JOHNSON1  I4I 

Well  arm'd  and  strong,  with  sword  among,  Christ  armies  marcheth  he, 

Doth  valiant  praise,  and  weak  one  raise,  with  kind  benignity. 
To  lead  the  Van,  'gainst  Babylon,  doth  worthy  Winthrop  call, 

Thy  Progeny,  shall  Battell  try,  when  Prelacy  shall  fall. 
With  fluent  Tongue  thy  Pen  doth  run,  in  learned  Latine  Phrase, 

To  Sweads,  French,  Dutch,  thy  Neighbours,  which  thy  lady  rhetorick 

praise. 
Thy  bounty  feeds,  Christs  servants  needs,  in  wildernesse  of  wants 

To  Indians  thou  Christs  Gospell  now,  'mongst  heathen  people  plants. 
Yet  thou  poore  dust,  now  dead  and  must,  to  rottennesse  be  brought, 

Till  Christ  restore  thee  glorious,  more  then  can  of  dust  be  thought. 

The  much  honoured  Thomas  Dudly  Esquire  was  chosen  Dep 
uty  Governour,  and  the  number  of  Free-men  added  was  about  83. 
Those  honoured  persons  who  were  now  in  place  of  Government, 
having  the  propagation  of  the  Churches  of  Christ,  in  their  eye 
laboured  by  all  meanes  to  make  room  for  Inhabitants,  knowing 
well  that  where  the  dead  carkass  is,  thither  will  the  Eagles  resort. 
But  herein  they  were  much  opposed  by  certaine  persons,  whose 
greedy  desire  for  land  much  hindered  the  worke  for  a  time,  as 
indeed  all  such  persons  do  at  this  very  day,  and  let  such  take  notice 
how  these  were  cured  of  this  distemper,  some  were  taken  away  by 
death,  and  then  to  be  sure  they  had  Land  enough,  others  fearing 
poverty,  and  famishment,  supposing  the  present  scarcity  would 
never  be  turned  into  plenty,  removed  themselves  away,  and  so 
never  beheld  the  great  good  the  Lord  hath  done  for  his  people, 
but  the  valiant  of  the  Lord  waited  with  patience,  and  in  the  misse 
of  beere  supplied  themselves  with  water,  even  the  most  honoured 
as  well  as  others,  contentedly  rejoycing  in  a  Cup  of  cold  water, 
blessing  the  Lord  that  had  given  them  the  taste  of  that  living  water, 
and  that  they  had  not  the  water  that  slackes  the  thirst  of  their 
naturall  bodies,  given  them  by  measure,  but  might  drinke  to  the 
full;  as  also  in  the  absence  of  Bread  they  feasted  themselves  with 
fish,  the  Women  once  a  day,  as  the  tide  gave  way,  resorted  to  the 
Mussells  and  Clambankes,  which  are  a  fish  as  bigas  Horse-mussels, 
where  they  daily  gathered  their  Families  food  with  much  heavenly 
discourse  of  the  provisions  Christ  had  formerly  made  for  many 
thousands  of  his  followers  in  the  wildernesse.  Quoth  one,  my  Hus 
band  hath  travailed  as  far  as  Plimoth  (which  is  neere  40  miles,) 
and  hath  with  great  toile  brought  a  little  Corne  home  with  him,  and 


142  EARLY  AMERICAN  WRITERS 

before  that  is  spent  the  Lord  will  assuredly  provide:  quoth  the 
other,  our  last  peck  of  meale  is  now  in  the  Oven  at  home  a  baking, 
and  many  of  our  godly  Neighbours  have  quite  spent  all,  and  wee 
owe  one  Loafe  of  that  little  wee  have;  Then  spake  a  third,  my 
husband  hath  ventured  himselfe  among  the  Indians  for  Corne, 
and  can  get  none,  as  also  our  honoured  Governour  hath  distributed 
his  so  far,  that  a  day  or  two  more  will  put  an  end  to  his  store,  and 
all  the  rest,  and  yet  methinks  our  Children  are  as  cheerefull,  fat, 
and  lusty  with  feeding  upon  those  Mussells,  Clambanks  and  other 
Fish  as  they  were  in  England,  with  their  fill  of  Bread,  which  makes 
mee  cheerfull  in  the  Lords  providing  for  us,  being  further  con 
firmed  by  the  exhortation  of  our  Pastor  to  trust  the  Lord  with  pro 
viding  for  us ;  whose  is  the  Earth  and  the  fulnesse  thereof.  And 
as  they  were  incouraging  one  another  in  Christs  carefull  providing 
for  them,  they  lift  up  their  eyes  and  saw  two  Ships  comming  in, 
and  presently  this  newes  came  to  their  Eares,  that  they  were  come 
from  Jacland  full  of  Victualls,  now  their  poore  hearts  were  not  so 
much  refreshed  in  regard  of  the  food  they  saw  they  were  like  to 
have,  as  their  soules  rejoyced  in  that  Christ  would  now  manifest 
himselfe  to  be  the  Commissary  Generall  of  this  his  Army,  and  that 
hee  should  honour  them  so  far  as  to  be  poore  Sutlers  for  his  Camp, 
they  soone  up  with  their  Mussells,  and  hie  them  home  to  stay 
their  hungry  stomacks.  After  this  manner  did  Christ  many  times 
graciously  provide  for  this  his  people,  even  at  the  last  cast. 

THE    EXTERMINATION    OF    THE   PEQUOTS 
[From  "The  Wonder-Working  Providence,"  Book  II,  Chap.  VI] 

After  the  Ministers  of  Christ  had,  through  the  grace  that  was 
given  them,  exhorted  and  encouraged  these  Souldiers  appointed 
for  the  work,  they  being  provided  with  certaine  Indian  guides, 
who  with  the  close  of  the  day  brought  them  to  a  small  river,  whe^re 
they  could  perceive  many  persons  had  been  dressing  of  fish ;  upon 
the  sight  thereof,  the  Indian  guides  concluded  they  were  now  a 
feasting  it  at  their  fort,  which  was  hard  at  hand ;  the  English  call 
ing  a  Councill  of  warre,  being  directed  by  the  specialist  provi 
dence  of  the  most  high  God,  they  concluded  to  storm  the  fort  a 
little  before  break  of  day;  at  which  time  they  supposed  the  Indians 


EDWARD   JOHNSON'  143 

being  up  late  in  their  jolly  feasting,  would  bee  in  their  deepest 
sleepe;  and  surely  so  it  was,  for  they  now  slept  their  last;  the 
English  keeping  themselves  as  covertly  as  they  could,  approached 
the  fort  at  the  time  appointed,  which  was  builded  of  whole  Trees 
set  in  the  ground  fast,  and  standing  up  an  end  about  twelve  foot 
high,  very  large,  having  pitcht  their  Wigwams  within  it,  the  en 
trance  being  on  two  sides,  with  intricate  Meanders  to  enter.  The 
chiefe  Leaders  of  the  English  made  some  little  stand  before  they 
offered  to  enter,  but  yet  boldly  they  rushed  on,  and  found  the 
passages  guarded  at  each  place  with  an  Indian  Bow-man,  ready  on 
the  string,  they  soone  let  fly,  and  wounded  the  foremost  of  the 
English  in  the  shoulder,  yet  having  dispatch'd  the  Porters,  they 
found  the  winding  way  in  without  a  Guide,  where  they  soone  placed 
themselves  round  the  Wigwams,  and  according  to  direction  they 
made  their  first  shot  with  the  muzzle  of  their  Muskets  downe  to 
the  ground,  knowing  the  Indian  manner  is  to  lie  on  the  ground  to 
sleep,  from  which  they  being  in  this  terrible  manner  awakened, 
unlesse  it  were  such  as  were  slaine  with  the  shot. 

After  this  some  of  the  English  entred  the  Wigwams,  where  they 
received  some  shot  with  their  Arrowes,  yet  catching  up  the  fire 
brands,  they  began  to  fire  them,  and  others  of  the  English  Soul- 
diers  with  powder,  did  the  same :  the  day  now  began  to  break ; 
the  Lord  intending  to  have  these  murtherers  know  he  would  looke 
out  of  the  cloudy  pillar  upon  them :  and  now  these  women  and 
children  set  up  a  terrible  out-cry;  the  men  were  smitten  down,  and 
slaine,  as  they  came  forth  with  a  great  slaughter,  the  Sqawes 
crying  out,  oh  much  winn  it  Englishman,  who  moved  with  pitty 
toward  them,  saved  their  lives :  and  hereupon  some  young  youth 
cried,  I  squaw,  I  squaw,  thinking  to  finde  the  like  mercy.  There 
were  some  of  these  Indians,  as  is  reported,  whose  bodyes  were  not 
to  be  pierced  by  their  sharp  rapiers  or  swords  of  a  long  time, 
which  made  some  of  the  Souldiers  think  the  Devil  was  in  them, 
for  there  were  some  Powwowes  among  them,  which  work  strange 
things,  with  the  help  of  Satan.  But  this  was  very  remarkable, 
one  of  them  being  wounded  to  death,  and  thrust  thorow  the  neck 
with  a  Halbert;  yet  after  all,  lying  groaning  upon  the  ground,  he 
caught  the  halberts  speare  in  his  hand,  and  wound  it  quite  round. 
After  the  English  were  thus  possessed  of  this  first  victory,  they  sent 


144  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

their  prisoners  to  the  pinnaces,  and  prosecute  the  warre  in  hand,  to 
the  next  Battalia  of  the  Indians,  which  lay  on  a  hill  about  two  miles 
distant,  and  indeed  their  stoutest  Souldiers  were  at  this  place, 
and  not  yet  come  to  the  fort;  the  English  being  weary  with  their 
night  worke,  and  wanting  such  refreshing  as  the  present  worke 
required,  began  to  grow  faint,  yet  having  obtained  one  victory, 
they  were  very  desirous  of  another :  and  further,  they  knew  right- 
well,  till  this  cursed  crew  were  utterly  rooted  out,  they  should 
never  be  at  peace;  therefore  they  marched  on  toward  them. 
Now  assuredly,  had  the  Indians  knowne  how  much  weakened  our 
Souldiers  were  at  present,  they  might  have  born  them  downe  with 
their  multitude,  they  being  very  strong  and  agile  of  body,  had 
they  come  to  handy-gripes;  but  the  Lord  (who  would  have  his 
people  know  their  work  was  his,  and  he  onely  must  order  their 
Counsels,  and  war-like  work  for  them)  did  bring  them  timely  sup 
ply  from  the  vessels,  and  also  gave  them  a  second  victory,  wherein 
they  slew  many  more  of  their  enemies,  the  residue  flying  into  a 
very  thick  swamp,  being  unaccessible,  by  reason  of  the  boggy 
holes  of  water,  and  thick  bushes;  the  English  drawing  up  their 
company  beleagered  the  swamp,  and  the  Indians  in  the  mean  time 
skulking  up  and  down,  and  as  they  saw  opportunity  they  made 
shot  with  their  Arrowes  at  the  English,  and  then  suddainly  they 
would  fall  flat  along  in  the  water  to  defend  themselves  from  the 
retalliation  of  the  Souldiers  Muskets.  This  lasted  not  long,  for 
our  English  being  but  a  small  number,  had  parted  themselves  far 
asunder,  but  by  the  providence  of  the  most  high  God,  some  of 
them  spyed  an  Indian  with  a  kettle  at  his  back  going  more  in 
wardly  into  the  swamp,  by  which  they  perceived  there  was  some 
place  of  firm  land  in  the  midst  thereof,  which  caused  them  to  make 
way  for  the  passage  of  their  Souldiers,  which  brought  this  warre 
to  a  period :  For  although  many  got  away,  yet  were  they  no  such 
considerable  number  as  ever  to  raise  warre  any  more;  the  slaine 
or  wounded  of  the  English  were  (through  the  mercy  of  Christ) 
but  a  few :  One  of  them  being  shot  through  the  body,  neere  about 
the  breast,  regarding  it  not  till  of  a  long  time  after,  which  caused 
the  bloud  to  dry  and  thicken  on  eitheir  end  of  the  arrow  so  that  it 
could  not  be  drawne  forth  his  body  without  great  difficulty  and 
much  paine,  yet  did  he  scape  his  life,  and  the  wound  healed. 


EDWARD   JOHNSON  145 

Thus  the  Lord  was  pleased  to  assist  his  people  in  this  wane,  and 
deliver  them  out  of  the  Indians  hands,  who  were  very  lusty  proper 
men  of  their  hands,  most  of  them,  as  may  appear  by  one  passage 
which  I  shall  here  relate :  thus  it  came  to  passe,  As  the  Souldiers 
were  uppon  their  march,  close  by  a  great  thicket,  where  no  eye 
could  penetrate  farre,  as  it  often  falls  out  in  such  wearisom  wayes, 
where  neither  men  nor  beast  have  beaten  out  a  path;  some 
Souldiers  lingering  behinde  their  fellowes,  two  Indians  watching 
their  opportunity,  much  like  a  hungry  hauke,  when  they  supposed 
the  last  man  was  come  up,  who  kept  a  double  double  double  dis 
tance  in  his  march,  they  sudden  and  swiftly  snatched  him  up  in 
their  tallens,  hoising  him  upon  their  shoulders,  ran  into  the  swamp 
with  him;  the  Souldier  being  unwilling  to  be  made  a  Pope  by 
being  borne  on  mens  shoulders,  strove  with  them  all  he  could  to 
free  himselfe  from  their  hands;  but,  like  a  carefull  Commander, 
one  Captaine  Davenport,  then  Lieutenant  of  this  company,  being 
diligent  in  his  place  to  bring  up  the  reare,  coming  up  with  them, 
followed  with  speed  into  the  swamp  after  him,  having  a  very  severe 
cutlace  tyed  to  his  wrist,  and  being  well  able  to  make  it  bite  sore 
when  he  set  it  on,  resolving  to  make  it  fall  foul  on  the  Indians 
bones,  he  soone  overtooke  them,  but  was  prevented  by  the  buckler 
they  held  up  from  hitting  them,  which  was  the  man  they  had  taken : 
It  was  matter  of  much  wonder  to  see  with  what  dexterity  they 
hurled  the  poore  Souldier  about,  as  if  they  had  been  handling  a 
Lacedaemonian  shield,  so  that  the  nimble  Captaine  Davenport 
could  not,  of  a  long  time,  fasten  one  stroke  upon  them;  yet,  at 
last,  dying  their  tawny  skin  into  a  crimson  colour,  they  cast  downe 
their  prey,  and  hasted  thorow  the  thickets  for  their  lives.  The 
Souldier  thus  redeemed,  had  no  such  hard  usage,  but  that  he  is 
alive,  as  I  suppose,  at  this  very  day :  The  Lord  in  mercy  toward 
his  poore  Churches,  having  thus  destroyed  these  bloudy  barba 
rous  Indians,  he  returnes  his  people  in  safety  to  their  vessels,  where 
they  take  account  of  their  prisoners :  the  Squawes  and  some  young 
youths  they  brought  home  with  them,  and  finding  the  men  to  be 
deeply  guilty  of  the  crimes  they  undertooke  the  warre  for,  they 
brought  away  onely  their  heads  as  a  token  of  their  victory.  By 
this  means  the  Lord  strook  a  trembling  terror  into  all  the  Indians 
round  about,  even  to  this  very  day. 


ANNE  BRADSTREET 

[The  chief  poetess  of  the  colonial  time  was  born  in  England  about  1612, 
the  daughter  of  Thomas  Dudley;  and  was  married  in  1628  to  Simon  Brad- 
street.  In  1630  she  came  to  America,  where  both  her  father  and  her  hus 
band  later  served  as  governors  of  Massachusetts.  Here  she  became  the 
mother  of  eight  children,  and  performed  faithfully  the  manifold  household 
and  social  duties  that  devolved  on  a  woman  of  her  station ;  and  in  some  way 
she  also  found  time  to  write  a  considerable  body  of  verse.  A  great  part  of 
this  was  taken  to  England  by  her  brother-in-law,  and  published  in  London 
in  1650,  with  the  title  "The  Tenth  Muse  Lately  sprung  up  in  America.  Or 
Severall  Poems,  compiled  with  great  Variety  of  Wit  and  Learning,"  etc.  The 
author  appears  to  have  been  far  too  modest  and  too  sensible  to  approve  this 
absurd  designation,  and  it  is  unfortunate  that  her  work  was  weighted  down 
with  it.  A  second  edition,  published  in  Boston  in  1678,  six  years  after  Mrs. 
Bradstreet's  death,  contained  a  number  of  additional  poems,  and  showed 
many  changes  made  by  the  author  in  those  that  had  appeared  earlier.  Mrs. 
Bradstreet  seems  never  to  have  sought  publicity,  and  it  is  probable  that 
many  of  her  more  personal  poems,  such  as  the  last  two  in  the  selections  that 
follow,  were  never  intended  to  be  printed.  Besides  her  poems,  she  wrote 
for  members  of  her  family  a  short  account  of  her  religious  experiences,  and 
a  series  of  "Meditations,  Divine  and  Morall,"  of  which  a  few  specimens  are 
given  later. 

Anne  Bradstreet's  avowed  master  was  the  French  poet  Du  Bartas,  whose 
works  had  been  translated  into  English  by  Sylvester;  though  some  of  her 
later  poems  show  influence  of  the  school  of  Spenser.  Her  ambitious  verses 
—  those  not  relating  to  personal  affairs  and  intended  for  her  family  —  were 
didactic.  The  greater  part  of  "The  Tenth  Muse"  was  taken  up  by  five 
poems:  "The  Four  Elements,"  "The  Four  Humours  in  Man's  Constitu 
tion,"  "The  Four  Ages  of  Man,"  "The  Four  Seasons  of  the  Year,"  and 
"The  Four  Monarchies."  The  last  and  longest  of  these  "quaternions"  is 
based  on  Sir  Walter  Raleigh's  "History  of  the  World."  "Contemplations," 
which  is  usually  considered  the  author's  best  poem,  first  appeared  in  the 
edition  of  1678.  It  is  given  complete  in  the  following  pages,  and  serves  to 
illustrate  most  of  her  excellences  and  her  weaknesses.  A  few  stanzas  show 
genuine  emotion,  an  appreciation  of  nature  unusual  in  her  day,  and  an  ear 
for  musical  verse;  others  show  lapses  into  the  prosaic,  and  above  all,  the 
author's  tendency  to  sacrifice  everything  to  rather  profitless  moralizing. 
Faulty  as  Mrs.  Bradstreet's  work  is,  however,  it  gives  evidence  of  more 
genuine  poetic  feeling  than  any  other  body  of  verse  written  in  America  in 
the  seventeenth  century,  and  deserves  study  as  the  work  of  a  pioneer. 

146 


ANNE  BRAD  STREET  147 

The  selections  follow  the  edition  of  Anne  Bradstreet's  works,  by  John 
Harvard  Ellis,  1867.  The  poem  entitled  "Longing  for  Heaven,"  and  the 
"Meditations,"  were  first  printed  in  this  edition,  from  the  author's  manu 
script.  "Contemplations"  and  "To  my  Dear  and  Loving  Husband"  first 
appeared  in  the  edition  of  1678.  The  others  were  included  in  "The  Tenth 
Muse."  The  text  of  all  these  poems,  except  the  two  printed  for  the  first 
time  by  Mr.  Ellis,  is  that  of  the  edition  of  1678.] 

PROLOGUE 

i 

To  sing  of  Wars,  of  Captains,  and  of  Kings, 
Of  Cities  founded,  Common-wealths  begun, 
For  my  mean  pen  are  too  superiour  things: 
Or  how  they  all,  or  each  their  dates  have  ran 
Let  Poets  and  Historians  set  these  forth, 
My  obscure  Lines  shall  not  so  dim  their  worth. 


But  when  my  wondring  eyes  and  envious  heart 
Great  Bartas  sugar'd  lines,  do  but  read  o're 
Fool  I  do  grudg  the  Muses  did  not  part 
'Twixt  him  and  me  that  overfluent  store; 
A  Bartas  can,  do  what  a  Bartas  will 
But  simple  I  according  to  my  skill. 

3 

From  school-boyes  tongue  no  rhet'rick  we  expect 
Nor  yet  a  sweet  Consort  from  broken  strings, 
Nor  perfect  beauty,  where's  a  main  defect: 
My  foolish,  broken,  blemish'd  Muse  so  sings 
And  this  to  mend,  alas,  no  Art  is  able, 
'Cause  nature,  made  it  so  irreparable. 

4 

Nor  can  I,  like  that  fluent  sweet  tongu'd  Greek, 
Who  lisp'd  at  first,  in  future  times  speak  plain 
By  Art  he  gladly  found  what  he  did  seek 


148  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

A  full  requital  of  his,  striving  pain 

Art  can  do  much,  but  this  maxime's  most  sure 

A  weak  or  wounded  brain  admits  no  cure. 


I  am  obnoxious  to  each  carping  tongue 
Who  says  my  hand  a  needle  better  fits, 
A  Poets  pen  all  scorn  I  should  thus  wrong, 
For  such  despite  they  cast  on  Female  wits: 
If  what  I  do  prove  well,  it  won't  advance, 
They'l  say  it's  stoln,  or  else  it  was  by  chance. 


But  sure  the  Antique  Greeks  were  far  more  mild 
Else  of  our  Sexe,  why  feigned  they  those  Nine 
And  poesy  made,  Calliope's  own  Child ; 
So  'mongst  the  rest  they  placed  the  Arts  Divine, 
But  this  weak  knot,  they  will  full  soon  untie, 
The  Greeks  did  nought,  but  play  the  fools  &  lye. 

7 

Let  Greeks  be  Greeks,  and  women  what  they  are 

Men  have  precedency  and  still  excell, 

It  is  but  vain  unjustly  to  wage  warre : 

Men  can  do  best,  and  women  know  it  well 

Preheminence  in  all  and  each  is  yours; 

Yet  grant  some  small  acknowledgement  of  ours. 

8 

And  oh  ye  high  flown  quills  that  soar  the  Skies, 
And  ever  with  your  prey  still  catch  your  praise, 
If  e're  you  daigne  these  lowly  lines  your  eyes 
Give  Thyme  or  Parsley  wreath,  I  ask  no  bayes, 
This  mean  and  unrefined  ure  of  mine 
Will  make  you  glistring  gold,  but  more  to  shine. 


ANNE  BRAD  STREET  149 

OF  THE  FOUR  AGES  OF  MAN 

[The  introductory  section  of  the  poem] 

Lo  now  four  other  act  upon  the  stage, 

Childhood  and  Youth,  the  Manly  &  Old  age; 

The  first  son  unto  flegm,  Grand-child  to  water, 

Unstable,  supple,  cold  and  moist's  his  nature. 

The  second  frolick,  claims  his  pedegree 

From  blood  and  air,  for  hot  and  moist  is  he. 

The  third  of  fire  and  Choler  is  compos'd 

Vindicative  and  quarrelsome  dispos'd. 

The  last  of  earth,  and  heavy  melancholy, 

Solid,  hating  all  lightness  and  all  folly. 

Childhood  was  cloth'd  in  white  &  green  to  show 

His  spring  was  intermixed  with  some  snow: 

Upon  his  head  nature  a  Garland  set 

Of  Primrose,  Daizy  &  the  Violet. 

Such  cold  mean  flowrs  the  spring  puts  forth  betime 

Before  the  sun  hath  throughly  heat  the  clime. 

His  Hobby  striding  did  not  ride  but  run, 

And  in  his  hand  an  hour-glass  new  begun, 

In  danger  every  moment  of  a  fall, 

And  when  tis  broke  then  ends  his  life  and  all : 

But  if  he  hold  till  it  have  run  its  last, 

Then  may  he  live  out  threescore  years  or  past. 

Next  Youth  came  up  in  gorgeous  attire, 

(As  that  fond  age  doth  most  of  all  desire) 

His  Suit  of  Crimson  and  his  scarfe  of  green, 

His  pride  in's  countenance  was  quickly  seen, 

Garland  of  roses,  pinks  and  gilli-flowers 

Seemed  on's  head  to  grow  bedew'd  with  showers: 

His  face  as  fresh  as  is  Aurora  fair, 

When  blushing  she  first  'gins  to  light  the  air. 

No  wooden  horse,  but  one  of  mettal  try'd, 

He  seems  to  fly  or  swim,  and  not  to  ride. 

Then  prancing  on  the  stage,  about  he  wheels, 

But  as  he  went  death  waited  at  his  heels. 


150  EARLY  AMERICAN   WRITERS 

The  next  came  up  in  a  much  graver  sort, 

As  one  that  cared  for  a  good  report, 

His  sword  by's  side,  and  choler  in  his  eyes, 

But  neither  us'd  as  yet,  for  he  was  wise: 

Of  Autumns  fruits  a  basket  on  his  arm, 

His  golden  God  in's  purse,  which  was  his  charm. 

And  last  of  all  to  act  upon  this  stage 

Leaning  upon  his  staff  came  up  Old  Age, 

Under  his  arm  a  sheaf  of  wheat  he  bore, 

An  harvest  of  the  best,  what  needs  he  more? 

In's  other  hand  a  glass  ev'n  almost  run, 

Thus  writ  about  This  out  then  am  I  done. 

His  hoary  hairs,  and  grave  aspect  made  way, 

And  all  gave  ear  to  what  he  had  to  say. 

These  being  met  each  in  his  equipage 

Intend  to  speak  according  to  their  age : 

But  wise  Old  age  did  with  all  gravity 

To  childish  Childhood  give  precedency, 

And  to  the  rest  his  reason  mildly  told, 

That  he  was  young  before  he  grew  so  old. 

To  do  as  he  each  one  full  soon  assents, 

Their  method  was  that  of  the  Elements, 

That  each  should  tell  what  of  himself  he  knew, 

Both  good  and  bad,  but  yet  no  more  then's  true. 

With  heed  now  stood  three  ages  of  frail  man, 

To  hear  the  child,  who  crying  thus  began : 

SPRING 

[From  "  The  Four  Seasons  of  the  Year  "] 

Another  four  I've  left  yet  to  bring  on, 

Of  four  times  four  the  last  Quaternion, 

The  Winter,  Summer,  Autumn  &  the  Spring, 

In  season  all  these  Seasons  I  shall  bring: 

Sweet  Spring  like  man  in  his  Minority, 

At  present  claim'd  and  had  priority. 

With  smiling  face  and  garments  somewhat  green, 

She  trim'd  her  locks,  which  late  had  frosted  been, 


ANNE  BRADSTREET  151 

Nor  hot  nor  cold,  she  spake,  but  with  a  breath, 
Fit  to  revive,  the  nummed  earth  from  death. 
Three  months  (quoth  she)  are  'lotted  to  my  share 
March,  April,  May  of  all  the  rest  most  fair. 
Tenth  of  the  first,  Sol  into  Aries  enters, 
And  bids  defiance  to  all  tedious  winters, 
Crosseth  the  Line,  and  equals  night  and  day, 
(Stil  adds  to  th'  last  til  after  pleasant  May) 
And  now  makes  glad  the  darkned  northern  wights 
Who  for  some  months  have  seen  but  starry  lights. 
Now  goes  the  Plow-man  to  his  merry  toyle, 
He  might  unloose  his  winter  locked  soyl: 
The  Seeds-man  too,  doth  lavish  out  his  grain, 
In  hope  the  more  he  casts,  the  more  to  gain: 
The  Gardner  now  superfluous  branches  lops, 
And  poles  erects  for  his  young  clambring  hops. 
Now  digs  then  sowes  his  herbs,  his  flowers  &  ro<3ts 
And  carefully  manures  his  trees  of  fruits. 
The  Pleiades  their  influence  now  give, 
And  all  that  seem'd  as  dead  afresh  doth  live. 
The  croaking  frogs,  whom  nipping  winter  kiFd, 
Like  birds  now  chirp,  and  hop  about  the  field, 
The  Nightingale,  the  black-bird  and  the  Thrush 
Now  tune  their  layes,  on  sprayes  of  every  bush. 
The  wanton  frisking  Kid,  and  soft-fleec'd  Lambs 
Do  jump  and  play  before  their  feeding  Dams, 
The  tender  tops  of  budding  grass  they  crop, 
They  joy  in  what  they  have,  but  more  in  hope: 
For  though  the  frost  hath  lost  his  binding  power, 
Yet  many  a  fleece  of  snow  and  stormy  shower 
Doth  darken  Sol's  bright  eye,  makes  us  remember 
The  pinching  North-west  wind  of  cold  December. 
My  second  moneth  is  April,  green  and  fair, 
Of  longer  dayes,  and  a  more  temperate  Air. 
The  Sun  in  Taurus  keeps  his  residence, 
And  with  his  warmer  beams  glanceth  from  thence 
This  is  the  month  whose  fruitful  showrs  produces 
All  set  and  sown  for  all  delights  and  uses: 


152  EARLY  AMERICAN   WRITERS 

The  Pear,  the  Plum,  and  Apple-tree  now  flourish 

The  grass  grows  long  the  hungry  beast  to  nourish. 

The  Primrose  pale,  and  azure  violet 

Among  the  virduous  grass  hath  nature  set, 

That  when  the  Sun  on's  Love  (the  earth)  doth  shine 

These  might  as  lace  set  out  her  garment  fine. 

The  fearfull  bird  his  little  house  now  builds 

In  trees  and  walls,  in  Cities  and  in  fields. 

The  outside  strong,  the  inside  warm  and  neat; 

A  natural  Artificer  compleat. 

The  clocking  hen  her  chirping  chickins  leads 

With  wings  &  beak  defends  them  from  the  gleads 

My  next  and  last  is  fruitfull  pleasant  May. 

Wherein  the  earth  is  clad  in  rich  aray, 

The  Sun  now  enters  loving  Gemini, 

And  heats  us  with  the  glances  of  his  eye, 

Our  thicker  rayment  makes  us  lay  aside 

Lest  by  his  fervor  we  be  torrifi'd. 

All  flowers  the  Sun  now  with  his  beams  discloses, 

Except  the  double  pinks  and  matchless  Roses. 

Now  swarms  the  busy,  witty  honey-Bee, 

Whose  praise  deserves  a  page  from  more  then  me 

The  cleanly  Huswifes  Dary's  now  in  thj  prime, 

Her  shelves  and  firkins  filPd  for  winter  time. 

The  meads  with  Cowslips,  Honey-suckles  dight, 

One  hangs  his  head,  the  other  stands  upright: 

But  both  rejoyce  at  th 'heavens  clear  smiling  face, 

More  at  her  showers,  which  water  them  a  space. 

For  fruits  my  Season  yields  the  early  Cherry, 

The  hasty  Peas,  and  wholesome  cool  Strawberry. 

More  solid  fruits  require  a  longer  time, 

Each  Season  hath  his  fruit,  so  hath  each  Clime: 

Each  man  his  own  peculiar  excellence, 

But  none  in  all  that  hath  preheminence. 

Sweet  fragrant  Spring,  with  thy  short  pittance  fly 

Let  some  describe  thee  better  then  can  I. 

Yet  above  all  this  priviledg  is  thine, 

Thy  dayes  still  lengthen  without  least  decline : 


ANNE  BRADSTREET  153 

THE    FOUNDING    OF    ROME 

[From  "The  Four  Monarchies"] 

Stout  Romulus,  Romes  founder,  and  first  King, 
\       Whom  vestal  Rhea  to  the  world  did  bring: 
\   His  Father  was  not  Mars  as  some  devis'd, 
But  jEmulus  in  Armour  all  disguiz'd: 
Thus  he  deceiv'd  his  Neece,  she  might  not  know 
_^_^JThe  double  injury  he  then  did  do. 

Where  shepenis  once  had  Coats  &  sheep  their  folds 

Where  Swains  &  rustick  Peasants  kept  their  holds, 

A  City  fair  did  Rom  id  us  erect, 

The  Mistress  of  the  World,  in  each  respect, 

His  brother  Rhemus  there  by  him  was  slain, 

For  leaping  o're  the  wall  with  some  disdain. 

The  stones  at  first  was  cemented  with  blood, 

And  bloody  hath  it  prov'd,  since  first  it  stood. 

This  City  built  and  Sacrifices  done, 

A  Form  of  Government,  he  next  begun; 

A  hundred  Senators  he  likewise  chose, 

And  with  the  style  of  Pat  res,  honoured  those, 

His  City  to  replenish,  men  he  wants, 

Great  priviledges  then  to  all  he  grants ; 

That  will  within  those  strong  built  walls  reside, 

And  this  new  gentle  Government  abide. 

Of  wives  there  was  so  great  a  scarcity, 

They  to  their  neighbours  sue  for  a  supply; 

But  all  disdain  Alliance,  then  to  make, 

So  Romulus  was  forc'd  this  course  to  take: 

Great  shews  he  makes  at  Tilt  and  Turnament, 

To  see  these  sports,  the  Sabins  all  are  bent. 

Their  daughters  by  the  Romans  then  were  caught, 

Then  to  recover  them  a  Field  was  fought; 

But  in  the  end,  to  final  peace  they  come, 

And  Sabins  as  one  people  dwelt  in  Rome. 

The  Romans  now  more  potent  'gin  to  grow, 

And  Fedinates  they  wholly  overthrow. 

But  Romulus  then  comes  unto  his  end. 


154  EARLY  AMERICAN   WRITERS 

Some  feigning  to  the  Gods  he  did  ascend: 
Others  the  seven  and  thirtyeth  of  his  reign, 
Affirm,  that  by  the  Senate  he  was  slain. 


CONTEMPLATIONS 

Some  time  now  past  in  the  Autumnal  Tide, 
When  Phoebus  wanted  but  one  hour  to  bed, 
The  trees  all  richly  clad,  yet  void  of  pride, 
Where  gilded  o're  by  his  rich  golden  head. 
Their  leaves  &  fruits  seem'd  painted,  but  was  true 
Of  green,  of  red,  of  yellow,  mixed  hew, 
Rapt  were  my  sences  at  this  delectable  view. 


I  wist  not  what  to  wish,  yet  sure  thought  I, 

If  so  much  excellence  abide  below; 

How  excellent  is  he  that  dwells  on  high? 

Whose  power  and  beauty  by  his  works  we  know. 

Sure  he  is  goodness,  wisdome,  glory,  light, 

That  hath  this  under  world  so  richly  dight: 

More  Heaven  then  Earth  was  here  no  winter  &  no  night. 


Then  on  a  stately  Oak  I  cast  mine  Eye, 
Whose  ruffling  top  the  Clouds  seem'd  to  aspire; 
How  long  since  thou  wast  in  thine  Infancy? 
Thy  strength,  and  stature,  more  thy  years  admire, 
Hath  hundred  winters  past  since  thou  wast  born? 
Or  thousand  since  thou  brakest  thy  shell  of  horn, 
If  so,  all  these  as  nought,  Eternity  doth  scorn. 


Then  higher  on  the  glistering  Sun  I  gaz'd, 
Whose  beams  was  shaded  by  the  leavie  Tree, 
The  more  I  look'd,  the  more  I  grew  amaz'd, 


ANNE  BRADSTREET  155 

And  softly  said,  what  glory's  like  to  thee? 

Soul  of  this  world,  this  Universes  Eye, 

No  wonder,  some  made  thee  a  Deity: 

Had  I  not  better  known,  (alas)  the  same  had  I. 


Thou  as  a  Bridegroom  from  thy  Chamber  rushes, 

And  as  a  strong  man,  joyes  to  run  a  race, 

The  morn  doth  usher  thee,  with  smiles  &  blushes, 

The  Earth  reflects  her  glances  in  thy  face. 

Birds,  insects,  Animals  with  Vegative, 

Thy  heart  from  death  and  dulness  doth  revive: 

And  in  the  darksome  womb  of  fruitful  nature  dive. 


Thy  swift  Annual,  and  diurnal  Course, 

Thy  daily  streight,  and  yearly  oblique  path, 

Thy  pleasing  fervor,  and  thy  scorching  force, 

All  mortals  here  the  feeling  knowledg  hath. 

Thy  presence  makes  it  day,  thy  absence  night, 

Quaternal  Seasons  caused  by  thy  might: 

Hail  Creature,  full  of  sweetness,  beauty  &  delight. 


Art  thou  so  full  of  glory,  that  no  Eye 

Hath  strength,  thy  shining  Raves  once  to  behold  ? 

And  is  thy  splenciid  Throne  erect  so  high  ? 

As  to  approach  it,  can  no  earthly  mould. 

How  full  of  glory  then  must  thy  Creator  be? 

Who  gave  this  bright  light  luster  unto  thee: 

Admir'd,  ador'd  for  ever,  be  that  Majesty. 


Silent  alone,  where  none  or  saw,  or  heard, 
In  pathless  paths  I  lead  my  wandring  feet, 
My  humble  Eyes  to  lofty  Skyes  I  rear'd 


156  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

To  sing  some  Song,  my  mazed  Muse  thought  meet. 
My  great  Creator  I  would  magnifie, 
That  nature  had,  thus  decked  liberally: 
But  Ah,  and  Ah,  again,  my  imbecility ! 

9 

I  heard  the  merry  grashopper  then  sing, 

The  black  clad  Cricket,  bear  a  second  part, 

They  kept  one  tune,  and  plaid  on  the  same  string, 

Seeming  to  glory  in  their  little  Art. 

Shall  Creatures  abject,  thus  their  voices  raise? 

And  in  their  kind  resound  their  makers  praise : 

Whilst  I  as  mute,  can  warble  forth  no  higher  layes. 

10 

When  present  times  look  back  to  Ages  past, 

And  men  in  being  fancy  those  are  dead, 

It  makes  things  gone  perpetually  to  last, 

And  calls  back  moneths  and  years  that  long  since  fled 

It  makes  a  man  more  aged  in  conceit, 

Then  was  Methuselah,  or's  grand-sire  great: 

While  of  their  persons  &  their  acts  his  mind  doth  treat. 

ii 

Sometimes  in  Eden  fair,  he  seems  to  be, 
Sees  glorious  Adam  there  made  Lord  of  all, 
Fancyes  the  Apple,  dangle  on  the  Tree, 
That  turn'd  his  Sovereign  to  a  naked  thral. 
Who  like  a  miscreant's  driven  from  that  place, 
To  get  his  bread  with  pain,  and  sweat  of  face: 
A  penalty  impos'd  on  his  backsliding  Race. 

12 

Here  sits  our  Grandame  in  retired  place, 
And  in  her  lap,  her  bloody  Cain  new  born, 
The  weeping  Imp  oft  looks  her  in  the  face, 


ANNE  BRAD  STREET  157 

Bewails  his  unknown  hap,  and  fate  forlorn; 
His  Mother  sighs,  to  think  of  Paradise, 
And  how  she  lost  her  bliss,  to  be  more  wise, 
Believing  him  that  was,  and  is,  Father  of  lyes. 

13 

Here  Cain  and  Abel  come  to  sacrifice, 

Fruits  of  the  Earth,  and  Fatlings  each  do  bring, 

On  Abels  gift  the  fire  descends  from  Skies, 

But  no  such  sign  on  false  Cain's  offering; 

With  sullen  hateful  looks  he  goes  his  wayes. 

Hath  thousand  thoughts  to  end  his  brothers  dayes, 

Upon  whose  blood  his  future  good  he  hopes  to  raise. 

14 

There  Abel  keeps  his  sheep,  no  ill  he  thinks, 

His  brother  comes,  then  acts  his  fratricide, 

The  Virgin  Earth,  of  blood  her  first  draught  drinks 

But  since  that  time  she  often  hath  been  cloy'd; 

The  wretch  with  gastly  face  and  dreadful  mind, 

Thinks  each  he  sees  will  serve  him  in  his  kind, 

Though  none  on  Earth  but  kindred  near  then  could  he  find. 


Who  fancyes  not  his  looks  now  at  the  Barr, 

His  face  like  death,  his  heart  with  horror  fraught, 

Nor  Male-factor  ever  felt  like  warr, 

When  deep  dispair,  with  wish  of  life  hath  fought, 

Branded  with  guilt,  and  crusht  with  treble  woes, 

A  Vagabond  to  Land  of  Nod  he  goes. 

A  City  builds,  that  wals  might  him  secure  from  foes. 

16 

Who  thinks  not  oft  upon  the  Fathers  ages. 
Their  long  descent,  how  nephews  sons  they  saw, 
The  starry  observations  of  those  Sages, 


158  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

And  how  their  precepts  to  their  sons  were  law, 

How  Adam  sigh'd  to  see  his  Progeny, 

Cloath'd  all  in  his  black  sinfull  Livery, 

Who  neither  guilt,  nor  yet  the  punishment  could  fly. 


Our  Life  compare  we  with  their  length  of  dayes 

Who  to  the  tenth  of  theirs  doth  now  arrive? 

And  though  thus  short,  we  shorten  many  wayes, 

Living  so  little  while  we  are  alive; 

In  eating,  drinking,  sleeping,  vain  delight 

So  unawares  comes  on  perpetual  night, 

And  puts  all  pleasures  vain  unto  eternal  flight. 

18 

When  I  behold  the  heavens  as  in  their  prime, 

And  then  the  earth  (though  old)  stil  clad  in  green, 

The  stones  and  trees,  insensible  to  time, 

Nor  age  nor  wrinkle  on  their  front  are  seen  ; 

If  winter  come,  and  greeness  then  do  fade, 

A  Spring  returns,  and  they  more  youthfull  made  ; 

But  Man  grows  old,  lies  down,  remains  where  once  he's  laid. 

19 

By  birth  more  noble  then  those  creatures  all, 

Yet  seems  by  nature  and  by  custome  curs'd, 

No  sooner  born,  but  grief  and  care  makes  fall 

That  state  obliterate  he  had  at  first: 

Nor  youth,  nor  strength,  nor  wisdom  spring  again 

Nor  habitations  long  their  names  retain, 

But  in  oblivion  to  the  final  day  remain. 

20 

Shall  I  then  praise  the  heavens,  the  trees,  the  earth 
Because  their  beauty  and  their  strength  last  longer 
Shall  I  wish  there,  or  never  to  had  birth, 


ANNE  BRAD  STREET  159 

Because  they're  bigger,  &  their  bodyes  stronger? 
Nay,  they  shall  darken,  perish,  fade  and  dye, 
And  when  unmade,  so  ever  shall  they  lye, 
But  man  was  made  for  endless  immortality. 

21 

Under  the  cooling  shadow  of  a  stately  Elm 

Close  sate  I  by  a  goodly  Rivers  side, 

Where  gliding  streams  the  Rocks  did  overwhelm; 

A  lonely  place,  with  pleasures  dignifi'd. 

I  once  that  lov'd  the  shady  woods  so  well, 

Now  thought  the  rivers  did  the  trees  excel, 

And  if  the  sun  would  ever  shine,  there  would  I  dwell. 

22 

While  on  the  stealing  stream  I  fixt  mine  eye, 
WThich  to  the  long'd  for  Ocean  held  it  s  course, 
I  markt,  nor  crooks,  nor  rubs  that  there  did  lye 
Could  hinder  ought,  but  still  augment  its  force: 
O  happy  Flood,  quoth  I,  that  holds  thy  race 
Till  thou  arrive  at  thy  beloved  place, 
Nor  is  it  rocks  or  shoals  that  can  obstruct  thy  pace 

23 

Nor  is't  enough,  that  thou  alone  may'st  slide, 
But  hundred  brooks  in  thy  cleer  waves  do  meet, 
So  hand  in  hand  along  with  thee  they  glide 
To  Thetis  house,  where  all  imbrace  and  greet: 
Thou  Emblem  true,  of  what  I  count  the  best, 
O  could  I  lead  my  Rivolets  to  rest, 
So  may  we  press  to  that  vast  mansion,  ever  blest. 

24 

Ye  Fish  which  in  this  liquid  Region  'bide, 
That  for  each  season,  have  your  habitation, 
Now  salt,  now  fresh  where  you  think  best  to  glide 


l6o  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

To  unknown  coasts  to  give  a  visitation, 
In  Lakes  and  ponds,  you  leave  your  numerous  fry, 
So  nature  taught,  and  yet  you  know  not  why, 
You  watry  folk  that  know  not  your  felicity. 

25 

Look  how  the  wantons  frisk  to  tast  the  air, 

Then  to  the  colder  bottome  streight  they  dive, 

Eftsoon  to  Neptun's  glassie  Hall  repair 

To  see  what  trade  they  great  ones  there  do  drive, 

Who  forrage  o're  the  spacious  sea-green  field, 

And  take  the  trembling  prey  before  it  yield, 

Whose  armour  is  their  scales,  their  spreading  fins  their  shield. 

26 

While  musing  thus  with  contemplation  fed, 

And  thousand  fancies  buzzing  in  my  brain, 

The  sweet-tongu'd  Philomel  percht  ore  my  head, 

And  chanted  forth  a  most  melodious  strain 

Which  rapt  me  so  with  wonder  and  delight, 

I  judg'd  my  hearing  better  then  my  sight, 

And  wisht  me  wings  with  her  a  while  to  take  my  flight. 

27 

O  merry  Bird  (said  I)  that  fears  no  snares, 

That  neither  toyles  nor  hoards  up  in  thy  barn, 

Feels  no  sad  thoughts,  nor  cruciating  cares 

To  gain  more  good,  or  shun  what  might  thee  harm 

Thy  cloaths  ne're  wear,  thy  meat  is  every  where, 

Thy  bed  a  bough,  thy  drink  the  water  cleer, 

Reminds  not  what  is  past,  nor  whats  to  come  dost  fear. 

28 

The  dawning  morn  with  songs  thou  dost  prevent, 
Sets  hundred  notes  unto  thy  feathered  crew, 
So  each  one  tunes  his  pretty  instrument, 


ANNE  BRAD  STREET  l6l 

And  warbling  out  the  old,  begin  anew, 

And  thus  they  pass  their  youth  in  summer  season, 

Then  follow  thee  into  a  better  Region, 

Where  winter's  never  felt  by  that  sweet  airy  legion 

29 

Man  at  the  best  a  creature  frail  and  vain, 

In  knowledg  ignorant,  in  strength  but  weak, 

Subject  to  sorrows,  losses,  sickness,  pain, 

Each  storm  his  state,  his  mind,  his  body  break, 

From  some  of  these  he  never  finds  cessation, 

But  day  or  night,  within,  without,  vexation, 

Troubles  from  foes,  from  friends,  from  dearest,  near'st  Relation 

3° 

And  yet  this  sinfull  creature,  frail  and  vain, 

This  lump  of  wretchedness,  of  sin  and  sorrow, 

This  weather-beaten  vessel  wrackt  with  pain, 

Joyes  not  in  hope  of  an  eternal  morrow; 

Nor  all  his  losses,  crosses,  and  vexation, 

In  weight,  in  frequency  and  long  duration 

Can  make  him  deeply  groan  for  that  divine  Translation. 


The  Mariner  that  on  smooth  waves  doth  glide, 
Sings  merrily,  and  steers  his  Barque  with  ease, 
As  if  he  had  command  of  wind  and  tide, 
And  now  become  great  Master  of  the  seas; 
But  suddenly  a  storm  spoiles  all  the  sport, 
And  makes  him  long  for  a  more  quiet  port, 
Which  'gainst  all  adverse  winds  may  serve  for  fort. 

32 

So  he  that  saileth  in  this  world  of  pleasure, 
Feeding  on  sweets,  that  never  bit  of  th'  sowre, 
That's  full  of  friends,  of  honour  and  of  treasure, 


162  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

Fond  fool,  he  takes  this  earth  ev'n  for  heav'ns  bower. 
But  sad  affliction  comes  &  makes  him  see 
Here's  neither  honour,  wealth,  nor  safety; 
Only  above  is  found  all  with  security. 

33 

O  Time  the  fatal  wrack  of  mortal  things, 

That  draws  oblivions  curtains  over  kings, 

Their  sumptuous  monuments,  men  know  them  not, 

Their  names  without  a  Record  are  forgot, 

Their  parts,  their  ports,  their  pomp's  all  laid  in  th'dust 

Nor  wit  nor  gold,  nor  buildings  scape  times  rust; 

But  he  whose  name  is  graved  in  the  white  stone  * 

Shall  last  and  shine  when  all  of  these  are  gone. 

TO  MY  DEAR  AND  LOVING  HUSBAND 

If  ever  two  were  one,  then  surely  we. 

If  ever  man  were  lov'd  by  wife,  then  thee ; 

If  ever  wife  was  happy  in  a  man, 

Compare  with  me  ye  women  if  you  can. 

I  prize  thy  love  more  then  whole  Mines  of  gold, 

Or  all  the  riches  that  the  East  doth  hold. 

My  love  is  such  that  Rivers  cannot  quench, 

Nor  ought  but  love  from  thee,  give  recompence. 

Thy  love  is  such  I  can  no  way  repay, 

The  heavens  reward  thee  manifold  I  pray. 

Then  while  we  live,  in  love  lets  so  perse ver, 

That  when  we  live  no  more,  we  may  live  ever. 

LONGING  FOR  HEAVEN 

As  weary  pilgrim,  now  at  rest, 

Hugs  with  delight  his  silent  nest 
His  wasted  limbes,  now  lye  full  soft 

That  myrie  steps,  have  troden  oft 
Blesses  himself,  to  think  upon 

his  dangers  past,  and  travailes  done 

1  Rev.  ii.  17. 


ANNE  BRADSTREET  163 

The  burning  sun  no  more  shall  heat 

Nor  stormy  raines,  on  him  shall  beat. 
The  bryars  and  thornes  no  more  shall  scratch 

nor  hungry  wolves  at  him  shall  catch 
He  erring  pathes  no  more  shall  tread 

nor  wild  fruits  eate,  in  stead  of  bread, 
for  waters  cold  he  doth  not  long 

for  thirst  no  more  shall  parch  his  tongue 
No  rugged  stones  his  feet  shall  gaule 

nor  stumps  nor  rocks  cause  him  to  fall 
All  cares  and  feares,  he  bids  farwell 

and  meanes  in  safity  now  to  dwell. 
A  pilgrim  I,  on  earth,  perplext 

with  sinns  with  cares  and  sorrows  vext 
By  age  and  paines  brought  to  decay 

and  my  Clay  house  mouldring  away 
Oh  how  I  long  to  be  at  rest 

and  scare  on  high  among  the  blest. 
This  body  shall  in  silence  sleep 

Mine  eyes  no  more  shall  ever  weep 
No  fainting  fits  shall  me  assaile 

nor  grinding  paines  my  body  fraile 
With  cares  and  feares  ne'r  cumbred  be 

Nor  losses  know,  nor  sorrowes  see 
What  tho.my  flesh  shall  there  consume 

it  is  the  bed  Christ  did  perfume 
And  when  a  few  yeares  shall  be  gone 

this  mortall  shall  be  cloth'd  upon 
A  Corrupt  Carcasse  downe  it  lyes 

a  glorious  body  it  shall  rise 
In  weaknes  and  dishonour  sowne 

in  power  'tis  rais'd  by  Christ  alone 
Then  soule  and  body  shall  unite 

and  of  their  maker  have  the  sight 
Such  lasting  joyes  shall  there  behold 

as  eare  ne'r  heard  nor  tongue  e'er  told  4 

Lord  make  me  ready  for  that  day 

then  Come  deare  bridgrome  Come  away. 
Aug:  31,  69. 


164  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

MEDITATIONS,  DIVINE  AND   MORALL 


There  is  no  object  that  we  see;  no  action  that  we  doe;  no 
good  that  we  in  joy;  no  evill  that  we  feele,  or  fear,  but  we  may 
make  some  spirituall  advantage  of  all:  and  he  that  makes  such 
improvement  is  wise,  as  well  as  pious. 


Many  can  speak  well,  but  few  can  do  well.  We  are  better 
scholars  in  the  Theory  then  the  practique  part,  but  he  is  a  true 
Christian  that  is  a  proficient  in  both. 


m 

Youth  is  the  time  of  getting,  middle  age  of  improving,  and  old 
age  of  spending;  a  negligent  youth  is  usually  attended  by  an 
ignorant  middle  age,  and  both  by  an  empty  old  age.  He  that 
hath  nothing  to  feed  on  but  vanity  and  lyes  must  needs  lye  down 
in  the  Bed  of  sorrow. 

IV 

A  ship  that  beares  much  saile,  and  little  or  no  ballast,  is  easily 
overset;  and  that  man,  whose  head  hath  great  abilities,  and  his 
heart  little  or  no  grace,  is  in  danger  of  foundering. 


It  is  reported  of  the  peakcock  that,  prideing  himself  in  his  gay 
feathers,  he  ruffles  them  up;  but,  spying  his  black  feet,  he  soon 
lets  fall  his  plumes,  so  he  that  glories  in  his  gifts  and  adornings, 
should  look  upon  his  Corruptions,  and  that  will  damp  his  high 
thoughts. 

VI 

The  finest  bread  hath  the  least  bran;  the  purest  hony,  the 
least  wax;  and  the  sincerest  Christian,  the  least  self-love. 


MICHAEL   WIGGLESWORTH 

[Michael  Wigglesworth,  the  most  popular  versifier  of  early  New  England 
Puritanism,  was  born  in  England,  but  came  to  America  with  his  parents  in 
1638,  at  the  age  of  seven.  He  was  graduated  from  Harvard  in  1651,  and 
was  for  a  time  tutor  in  that  institution.  For  nearly  half  a  century  he  was 
pastor  of  the  church  at  Maiden,  Mass.,  though  for  long  periods  of  time  he 
was  unable  to  preach  on  account  of  ill  health.  During  these  periods  his 
avocations  seem  to  have  been  medicine  and  versifying.  He  became  a  skilful 
physician,  and  some  of  his  poems  show  his  familiarity  with  medical  phrase 
ology.  The  poem  which  made  him  famous  was  "The  Day  of  Doom,  or  a 
Poetical  Description  of  the  Great  and  Last  Judgment."  This  was  published 
in  1662,  and  has  been  many  times  reprinted  in  both  England  and  America. 
It  consists  of  two  hundred  and  twenty-four  eight-line  stanzas  of  jigging  octo 
syllabics,  and  describes  in  detailed  and  graphic  manner  the  events  of  the 
Judgment  Day.  In  the  part  of  the  poem  which  the  author's  contemporaries 
probably  found  most  edifying,  different  classes  of  sinners  offer  pleas  for  mercy, 
and  are  in  turn  answered  by  the  Judge.  The  popularity  of  the  poem  was 
doubtless  due  in  part  to  the  vivid  descriptions,  which  must  have  been  espe 
cially  striking  to  readers  who  knew  little  poetry  except  that  which  presented 
abstract  moralizing;  and  in  part  to  the  fact  that  the  answers  to  different 
sinners  expounded  in  easily  remembered  jingles  many  of  the  chief  doctrines 
of  Calvinism.  At  all  events  "The  Day  of  Doom"  was  long  considered  a 
religious  classic.  It  was  almost  universally  read,  and  innumerable  children 
were  required  to  learn  it  with  their  catechisms.  Of  late  years  the  want  of 
dignity  and  fitness  in  its  form,  together  with  the  harshness  of  the  pictures 
that  it  presents,  have  combined  to  make  it  as  notorious  as  it  was  once  famous. 

Michael  Wigglesworth  also  wrote  a  few  other  poems,  including  "Meat 
out  of  the  Eater,  or  Meditations  concerning  the  Necessity,  End,  and  Use 
fulness  of  Affliction  to  God's  Children,"  published  in  1669,  and  "God's 
Controversy  with  New  England,  written  in  the  Time  of  the  Great  Drought, 
anno  1662,  by  a  Lover  of  New  England's  Prosperity,"  first  printed  in  the 
Proceedings  of  the  Massachusetts  Historical  Society,  for  1871. 

As  no  copy  of  the  "Day  of  Doom"  published  in  Wigglesworth's  lifetime 
is  available,  the  selections  that  follow  are  taken  from  the  edition  prepared 
by  William  Henry  Burr  in  1867.  This  is  based  on  the  edition  of  1715,  com 
pared  with  the  London  edition  of  1673.  The  spelling  and,  to  some  extent, 
the  punctuation  have  been  modernized.  The  closing  stanzas  of  "God's 
Controversy  with  New  England"  are  from  the  Proceedings  of  the  Massa 
chusetts  Historical  Society.] 

165 


1 66  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

THE   CALL   TO   JUDGMENT 

[From  "The  Day  of  Doom"] 


No  heart  so  bold,  but  now  grows  cold,  Rev  ^ . 

and  almost  dead  with  fear; 
No  eye  so  dry  but  now  can  cry, 

and  pour  out  many  a  tear. 
Earth's  Potentates  and  pow'rful  States, 

Captains  and  Men  of  Might, 
Are  quite  abasht,  their  courage  dasht, 

at  this  most  dreadful  sight. 

XI 

Mean  men  lament,  great  men  do  rent  Mat.  24 : 30. 

their  Robes  and  tear  their  hair; 
They  do  not  spare  their  flesh  to  tear 

through  horrible  despair. 
All  kindreds  wail;   all  hearts  do  fail; 

Horror  the  World  doth  fill 
With  weeping  eyes  and  loud  out-cries, 

yet  knows  not  how  to  kill. 

XII 

Some  hide  themselves  in  Caves  and  Delves,         Rev.  6  .-15,16. 

in  places  under  ground: 
Some  rashly  leap  into  the  Deep 

to  'scape  by  being  drown'd: 
Some  to  the  Rocks  (O  senseless  blocks !) 

And  woody  Mountains  run, 
That  there  they  might  this  fearful  sight, 

and  dreaded  Presence  shun. 


xni 

In  vain  do  they  to  Mountains  say, 
"Fall  on  us  and  us  hide 


MICHAEL   WIGGLESWORTH  167 

From  Judge's  ire,  more  hot  than  Fire, 

for  who  may  it  abide?" 
No  hiding  place  can  from  his  Face 

sinners  at  all  conceal, 
Whose  flaming  Eye  hid  things  doth  spy, 

and  darkest  things  reveal. 

XIV 

The  Judge  draws  nigh,  exalted  high  Mat.  25 :  21. 

upon  a  lofty  Throne, 
Amidst  the  throng  of  Angels  strong, 

lo,  Israel's  Holy  One ! 
The  excellence  of  whose  Presence 

and  awful  Majesty, 
Amazeth  Nature,  and  every  Creature 

doth  more  than  terrify. 

xv 

The  Mountains  smoke,  the  Hills  are  shook,         Rev.  6 : 14. 

the  Earth  is  rent  and  torn, 
As  H  she  should  be  clear  dissolv'd 

or  from  her  center  borne. 
The  sea  doth  roar,  forsakes  the  shore, 

and  shrinks  away  for  fear ; 
The  wild  beasts  flee  into  the  sea, 

so  soon  as  he  draws  near, 

XVI 

Whose  Glory  bright,  whose  wond'rous  Might 

whose  Power  Imperial,  • 
So  far  surpass  whatever  was 

in  Realms  Terrestrial, 
That  tongues  of  men  (nor  Angel's  pen) 

Cannot  the  same  express; 
And  therefore  I  must  pass  it  by, 

lest  speaking  should  transgress.  Thes.  4  : 16. 


168  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 


XVII 

Before  his  Throne  a  Trump  is  blown,  Resurrection 

proclaiming  th'  Day  of  Doom;  of  the  Dead. 

Forthwith  he  cries,  "  Ye  Dead  arise  ]2°hn  5 :  a8' 

and  unto  Judgment  come." 
No  sooner  said,  but  'tis  obey'd; 

Sepulchers  open'd  are; 
Dead  bodies  all  rise  at  his  call, 

and's  mighty  Power  declare. 


xvm 

Both  Sea  and  Land  at  his  command, 

their  Dead  at  once  surrender; 
The  Fire  and  Air  constrained  are 

also  their  dead  to  tender. 
The  mighty  Word  of  this  great  Lord 

links  Body  and  Soul  together, 
Both  of  the  Just  and  the  unjust, 

to  part  no  more  forever. 

XIX 

The  same  translates  from  Mortal  states  The  living 

To  Immortality,  changed. 

M,,  .  j  i        i-  Luke  20 :  36. 

that  survive  and  be  alive,  !  cor  I5  :  52. 

in  th'  twinkling  of  an  eye; 
That  so  they  may  abide  for  aye, 

to  endless  weal  or  woe: 
Both  the  Renate  and  Reprobate 

are  made  to  die  no  moe. 


xx 

His  winge*d  Hosts  fly  through  all  coasts,  All  brought  to 

together  gathering  Judgment. 

Both  good  and  bad,  both  Quick  and  Dead,  Mat'  24  :  3I> 
and  all  to  Judgment  bring. 


MICHAEL   WICGLESWORTH  169 

Out  of  their  holes  those  creeping  Moles, 

that  hid  themselves  for  fear, 
By  force  they  take,  and  quickly  make 

before  the  Judge  appear. 

XXI 

Thus  every  one  before  the  Throne  2  Cor.  5 : 10. 

of  Christ  the  Judge  is  brought,  The  SheeP 

^  J    .  °  separated 

Both  nghteous  and  impious,  fr£m  the 

that  good  or  ill  hath  wrought.  Goats. 

A  separation  and  diff'ring  station  Mat-  25  :  32- 

by  Christ  appointed  is 
(To  sinners  sad)  'twixt  good  and  bad, 

'twixt  Heirs  of  woe  and  bliss. 


THE    HEATHEN   AND    THE   INFANTS    PLEAD 

[From  "  The  Day  of  Doom  "] 

Then  were  brought  near  with  trembling  fear, 

a  number  numberless, 
Of  Blind  Heathen,  and  brutish  men 

that  did  God's  Law  transgress; 

CLvn 

Whose  wicked  ways  Christ  open  lays, 

and  makes  their  sins  appear, 
They  making  pleas  their  case  to  ease, 

if  not  themselves  to  clear.  Heathen  men 

"Thy  Written  Word,"  say  they,  "good  Lord,      plead  want  of 

we  never  did  enjoy; 
We  ne'er  refus'd,  nor  it  abus'd; 

Oh,  do  not  us  destroy ! " 

CLvm 

"You  ne'er  abus'd,  nor  yet  refus'd 
my  Written  Word,  you  plead; 


1 70  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

That's  true,"  quoth  he,  "  therefore  shall  ye 

the  less  be  punisheU  Mat  xj .  ^ 

You  shall  not  smart  for  any  part  Luke  12  : 48. 

of  other  men's  offense, 

But  for  your  own  transgressi-on 
receive  due  recompense." 


CLIX 

"But  we  were  blind,"  say  they,  "in  mind; 

too  dim  was  Nature's  Light, 
Our  only  guide,  as  hath  been  tried, 

to  bring  us  to  the  sight  i  Cor.  i :  21. 

Of  our  estate  degenerate,  Insufficiency 

j  >  i  i       A  i       >  V.  11  of  the  light 

and  curs  d  by  Adam's  Fall;  Of  Nature. 

How  we  were  born  and  lay  forlorn 
in  bondage  and  in  thrall. 


CLX 

"We  did  not  know  a  Christ  till  now, 

nor  how  fall'n  men  be  save*d, 
Else  would  we  not,  right  well  we  wot, 

have  so  ourselves  behaved. 
We  should  have  mourn'd,  we  should  have  turn'd 

from  sin  at  thy  Reproof, 
And  been  more  wise  through  thy  advice, 

for  our  own  soul's  behoof.  Mat  n  :  22. 

CLXI 

"But  Nature's  light  shin'd  not  so  bright, 

to  teach  us  the  right  way: 
We  might  have  lov'd  it  and  well  improv'd  it, 

and  yet  have  gone  astray." 
The  Judge  most  High  makes  this  Reply :  They  are 

"You  ignorance  pretend,  answered. 

Dimness  of  sight,  and  want  of  light, 

your  course  Heav'nward  to  bend. 


MICHAEL   WIGGLESWORTH 


CLXII 


171 


"How  came  your  mind  to  be  so  blind? 

I  once  you  knowledge  gave, 
Clearness  of  sight  and  judgment  right :  Gen.   i :  27. 

who  did  the  same  deprave  ?  Ecd-   7  :  29- 

If  to  your  cost  you  have  it  lost,  Hos'  I3  :  9' 

and  quite  defac'd  the  same, 
Your  own  desert  hath  caus'd  the  smart; 

you  ought  not  me  to  blame. 

CLXIII 

"Yourselves  into  a  pit  of  woe, 
your  own  transgression  led;  Mat.  n  :  25, 

If  I  to  none  my  Grace  had  shown,  compared 

,      ,      ,  ,  .    .        ,  -,  with  20 :  i<. 

who  had  been  injured? 

If  to  a  few,  and  not  to  you, 

I  shew'd  a  way  of  life, 
My  Grace  so  free,  you  clearly  see 

gives  you  no  ground  of  strife. 

CLXIV 

"  'Tis  vain  to  tell,  you  wot  full  well, 

if  you  in  time  had  known 
Your  misery  and  remedy, 

your  actions  had  it  shown: 
You,  sinful  Crew,  have  not  been  true  R0m.  i :  20, 

unto  the  Light  of  Nature,  21,  22. 

Nor  done  the  good  you  understood, 

nor  owned  your  Creator. 

CLXV 

"He  that  the  Light,  because  'tis  slight, 

hath  used  to  despise, 
Would  not  the  Light  shining  more  bright,  it^mdi'ltj 

be  likely  for  to  prize.  Mat.  12:41. 


172 


EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 


If  you  had  lov'd,  and  well  improv'd 
your  knowledge  and  dim  sight, 

Herein  your  pain  had  not  been  vain, 
your  plagues  had  been  more  light." 


CLXVI 

Then  to  the  Bar  all  they  drew  near 

Who  died  in  infancy, 
And  never  had  or  good  or  bad 

effected  pers'nally; 
But  from  the  womb  unto  the  tomb 

were  straightway  carried, 
(Or  at  the  least  ere  they  transgress'd) 

Who  thus  began  to  plead: 


Reprobate  In 
fants  plead  for 
themselves. 
Rev.  20 :  12, 
15,  compared 
with  Rom.  5  : 
12,  14,  and 
9:  n,  13. 
Ezek.  18  :  2. 


CLXVII 

"If  for  our  own  transgressi-on, 

or  disobedience, 
We  here  did  stand  at  thy  left  hand, 

just  were  the  Recompense; 
But  Adam's  guilt  our  souls  hath  spilt, 

his  fault  is  charg'd  upon  us ; 
And  that  alone  hath  overthrown 

and  utterly  undone  us. 


CLXVHI 

"Not  we,  but  he  ate  of  the  Tree, 

Whose  fruit  was  interdicted; 
Yet  on  us  all  of  his  sad  Fall 

the  punishment's  inflicted. 
How  could  we  sin  that  had  not  been, 

or  how  is  his  sin  our, 
Without  consent,  which  to  prevent 

we  never  had  the  pow'r? 


MICHAEL  WIGGLESWORTH  173 

CLXIX 

"O  great  Creator  why  was  our  Nature 

depraved  and  forlorn? 
Why  so  defil'd,  and  made  so  vil'd, 

whilst  we  were  yet  unborn? 
If  it  be  just,  and  needs  we  must 

transgressors  reckon'd  be, 
Thy  Mercy,  Lord,  to  us  afford,  Psal.  51 : 5. 

which  sinners  hath  set  free. 

CLXX 

"Behold  we  see  Adam  set  free, 

and  sav'd  from  his  trespass, 
Whose  sinful  Fall  hath  split  us  all, 

and  brought  us  to  this  pass. 
Canst  thou  deny  us  once  to  try, 

or  Grace  to  us  to  tender, 
When  he  finds  grace  before  thy  face, 

who  was  the  chief  offender?" 

CLXXI 

Then  answered  the  Judge  most  dread: 

"God  doth  such  doom  forbid,  Their  argu- 

That  men  should  die  eternally  g^s 

for  what  they  never  did.  R^n'  5"  '12^19. 

But  what  you  call  old  Adam's  Fall, 

and  only  his  Trespass, 
You  call  amiss  to  call  it  his, 

both  his  and  yours  it  was. 

CLXXH 

"He  was  design'd  of  all  Mankind 

to  be  a  public  Head;  i  Cor.  15  :  48, 

A  common  Root,  whence  all  should  shoot,         49- 

and  stood  in  all  their  stead. 


174  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

He  stood  and  fell,  did  ill  or  well, 

not  for  himself  alone, 
But  for  you  all,  who  now  his  Fall 

and  trespass  would  disown. 

CLXXIII 

"If  he  had  stood,  then  all  his  brood 

had  been  established 
In  God's  true  love  never  to  move, 

nor  once  awry  to  tread; 
Then  all  his  Race  my  Father's  Grace 

should  have  enjoy'd  for  ever, 
And  wicked  Sprites  by  subtile  sleights 

could  them  have  harmed  never. 


CLXXIV 

"Would  you  have  griev'd  to  have  receiv'd 

through  Adam  so  much  good, 
As  had  been  your  for  evermore, 

if  he  at  first  had  stood? 
Would  you  have  said,  'We  ne'er  obey'd 

nor  did  thy  laws  regard; 
It  ill  befits  with  benefits, 

us,  Lord,  to  so  reward?' 

CLXXV 
"Since  then  to  share  in  his  welfare. 


you  could  have  been  content, 
You  may  with  reason  share  in  his  treason, 

and  in  the  punishment.  Rom.  5  : 12. 

Hence  you  were  born  in  state  forlorn,  Psal-  S1 :  5- 

with  Natures  so  depraved ;  en-  5  •  3- 

Death  was  your  due  because  that  you 

had  thus  yourselves  behaved. 


MICHAEL  WIGGLESWORTH  175 


CLXXVI 

"You  think  'If  we  had  been  as  he, 

whom  God  did  so  betrust, 
We  to  our  cost  would  ne'er  have  lost 

all  for  a  paltry  lust/ 
Had  you  been  made  in  Adam's  stead,  Mat  23 : 30, 31. 

you  would  like  things  have  wrought, 
And  so  into  the  self-same  woe, 

yourselves  and  yours  have  brought. 

CLxxvn 

"I  may  deny  you  once  to  try, 

or  Grace  to  you  to  tender, 
Though  he  finds  Grace  before  my  face  Rom.  9 : 15,  18. 

who  was  the  chief  offender;  SB?? !?' 

Else  should  my  Grace  cease  to  be  Grace, 

for  it  would  not  be  free, 
If  to  release  whom  I  should  please 

I  have  no  liberty. 

CLxxvm 

"If  upon  one  what's  due  to  none 

I  frankly  shall  bestow, 
And  on  the  rest  shall  not  think  best 

compassion's  skirt  to  throw, 
Whom  injure  I?   will  you  envy 

and  grudge  at  others'  weal? 
Or  me  accuse,  who  do  refuse 

yourselves  to  help  and  heal? 

CLXXIX 

"Am  I  alone  of  what's  my  own, 

no  Master  or  no  Lord? 
And  if  I  am,  how  can  you  claim  ^at-  20 : 15. 

what  I  to  some  afford? 


i76 


EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 


Will  you  demand  Grace  at  my  hand, 
and  challenge  what  is  mine? 

Will  you  teach  me  whom  to  set  free, 
and  thus  my  Grace  confine? 


CLXXX 

"You  sinners  are,  and  such  a  share 

as  sinners,  may  expect; 
Such  you  shall  have,  for  I  do  save 

none  but  mine  own  Elect. 
Yet  to  compare  your  sin  with  their 

who  liv'd  a  longer  time, 
I  do  confess  yours  is  much  less, 

though  every  sin's  a  crime. 


Psal.  58 : 8. 
Rom.  6  :  23. 
Gal.  3  : 10. 
Rom.  8  :  29, 
30,  and  ii  :  7. 
Rev.  21 :  27. 
Luke  12  :  14, 
Mat.  ii :  22. 


CLXXXI 

"A  crime  it  is,  therefore  in  bliss 

you  may  not  hope  to  dwell; 
But  unto  you  I  shall  allow 

the  easiest  room  in  Hell." 
The  glorious  King  thus  answering, 

they  cease,  and  plead  no  longer; 
Their  Consciences  must  needs  confess 

his  Reasons  are  the  stronger. 


The  wicked 
all  convinced 
and  put  to  si 
lence. 

Rom.  3  : 19. 
Mat.  22  : 12. 


CLXXXH 

Thus  all  men's  pleas  the  Judge  with  ease 

doth  answer  and  confute, 
Until  that  all,  both  great  and  small, 

are  silenced  and  mute. 
Vain  hopes  are  cropt,  all  mouths  are  stopt, 

sinners  have  naught  to  say, 
But  that  'tis  just  and  equal  most 

they  should  be  damn'd  for  aye. 


Behold  the 
formidable 
estate  of  all 
the  ungodly  as 
they  stand 
hopeless  and 
helpless  be 
fore  an  impar 
tial  Judge  ex 
pecting  their 
final  Sentence. 
Rev.  6  : 16, 17. 


MICHAEL   WIGGLESWORTH  177 

EPILOGUE  TO  "  GOD'S   CONTROVERSY  WITH  NEW 
ENGLAND" 

Ah  dear  New  England !   dearest  land  to  me ; 

Which  unto  God  hast  hitherto  been  dear, 
And  mayst  be  still  more  dear  than  formerlie, 

If  to  his  voice  thou  wilt  incline  thine  ear. 

Consider  wel  &  wisely  what  the  rod, 
Wherewith  thou  art  from  yeer  to  yeer  chastized, 

Instructeth  thee.     Repent,   &  turn  to  God, 
Who  wil  not  have  his  nurture  be  despized. 

Thou  still  hast  in  thee  many  praying  saints, 
Of  great  account,  and  precious  with  the  Lord, 

Who  dayly  powre  out  unto  him  their  plaints, 
And  strive  to  please  him  both  in  deed  &  word. 

Cheer  on,  sweet  souls,  my  heart  is  with  you  all, 
And  shall  be  with  you,  maugre  Sathan's  might: 

And  whereso'ere  this  body  be  a  Thrall, 
Still  in  New-England  shall  be  my  delight. 


PETER  FOLGER 

[The  greater  part  of  the  New  England  writings  that  have  been  preserved 
from  the  seventeenth  century  are  the  work  of  ministers  and  other  members 
of  the  theological  and  intellectual  oligarchy  that  dominated  the  government. 
Many  of  the  contemporaries  of  these  authors  were,  however,  practical,  hard- 
headed  Yankees  who  were  inclined  to  criticise  the  opinions  and  the  acts  of 
their  superiors.  These  men  were  not  in  the  habit  of  writing  much,  and  they 
doubtless  refrained,  through  fear  for  their  personal  safety,  from  expressing 
their  most  radical  ideas  openly.  The  few  of  their  rude  utterances  that  have 
been  preserved  have,  therefore,  an  especial  interest.  One  of  these  works  is 
"A  Looking  Glass  for  the  Times,  or  The  former  Spirit  of  New-England 
revived  in  this  generation,"  a  doggerel  poem  of  some  four  hundred  lines, 
written  by  Peter  Folger  in  1675.  Folger  was  one  of  the  first  settlers  of  Nan- 
tucket,  a  land-surveyor,  who,  if  he  had  written  nothing,  would  still  have  been 
remembered  as  the  grandfather  of  Benjamin  Franklin.  At  the  outbreak 
of  the  Indian  troubles  he  took  the  ground  that  the  afflictions  of  the  colonists 
were  a  divine  punishment  for  their  religious  intolerance,  and  he  criticised 
the  interference  of  the  ministers  with  affairs  of  state.  A  mistaken  reading  of 
a  passage  in  Franklin's  "Autobiography"  once  led  to  the  belief  that  the 
verses  were  published  in  the  year  that  they  were  written;  but  it  now  seems 
certain  that  Folger  had  the  discretion  common  to  men  of  his  class,  and  that 
he  gave  his  work  no  publicity  that  was  likely  to  get  him  into  trouble.  It  is 
probable  that  if  Cotton  Mather  had  seen  the  poem,  he  would  not  have  used 
some  complimentary  terms  with  which  he  refers  to  the  author  in  the  "  Mag- 
nalia."  The  first  known  edition  of  the  verses,  now  very  rare,  was  published 
in  1763.  The  brief  selection  here  given  is  from  the  reprint  of  this  edition 
made  by  Sidney  S.  Rider  in  the  Rhode  Island  Historical  Tracts.] 

A   WORD    CONCERNING    MAGISTRATES    AND    MIN 
ISTERS 

[From  "A  Looking  Glass  for  the  Times"] 

I  would  not  have  you  for  to  think, 

tho'  I  have  wrote  so  much, 
That  I  hereby  do  throw  a  Stone 

at  Magistrates  as  such. 
The  Rulers  in  the  Country  I 

do  own  them  in  the  Lord; 
And  such  as  are  for  Government, 

with  them  I  do  accord. 
178 


PETER  FOLGER  179 

But  that  which  I  intend  hereby, 

is  that  they  would  keep  bound, 
And  meddle  not  with  God's  Worship, 

for  which  they  have  no  ground. 
And  I  am  not  alone  herein, 

there's  many  hundreds  more 
That  have  for  many  Year's  ago 

spake  much  upon  that  Score, 
Indeed  I  really  believe 

it's  not  your  Business 
To  meddle  with  the  Church  of  Christ, 

in  Matters  more  or  less, 
There's  work  enough  to  do  besides, 

to  judge  in  mine  and  thine, 
To  succour  Poor  and  Fatherless, 

that  is  the  Work  in  fine. 
And  I  do  think  that  now  you  find 

enough  of  that  to  do; 
Much  more  at  such  a  Time  as  this 

as  there  is  War  also, 
Indeed  I  count  it  very  low 

for  People  in  these  Days, 
To  ask  the  Rulers  for  their  leave 

to  serve  God  in  his  Ways. 
I  count  it  worse  in  Magistrates 

to  use  the  Iron  Sword, 
To  do  that  Work  which  Christ  alone 

will  do  by  his  own  Word. 
The  Church  may  now  go  stay  at  home, 

there's  nothing  for  to  do; 
Their  Work  is  all  cut  out  by  Law, 

and  almost  made  up  too. 
Now  Reader,  least  you  should  mistake, 

in  what  I  said  before 
Concerning  Minister's,  I  think 

to  write  a  few  Words  more, 
I  would  not  have  you  for  to  think 

that  I  am  such  a  Fool, 


l8o  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

To  write  against  Learning,  as  such, 

or  to  cry  down  a  School. 
But  'tis  that  Popish  College  way, 

that  I  intend  hereby, 
Where  Men  are  mew'd  up  in  a  Cage, 

fit  for  all  Villany. 
But  I  shall  leave  this  puddle  Stuff 

to  neighbours  at  the  Door, 
That  can  speak  more  unto  such  things, 

upon  a  knowing  Score. 
And  now  these  Men  though  ne'er  so  bad, 

when  they  have  learn'd  their  Trade, 
They  must  come  in  and  bear  a  Part, 

whatever  Laws  are  made. 
I  can't  but  wonder  for  to  see 

our  Magistrates  and  Wise, 
That  they  sit  still,  and  suffer  them, 

to  ride  on  them,  not  rise, 
And  stir  them  up  to  do  that  Work 

that  Scripture  Rule  there  wants, 
To  persecute  and  persecute 

Those  that  they  judge  are  Saints. 
There's  one  thing  more  that  I  believe 

is  worse  than  all  the  rest, 
They  vilify  the  Spirit  of  God, 

and  count  School  Learning  Best. 
If  that  a  Boy  hath  learn'd  his  Trade, 

and  can  the  Spirit  disgrace, 
Then  he  is  lifted  up  on  high, 

and  needs  must  have  a  Place, 
But  I  shall  leave  this  dirty  Stuff, 

and  give  but  here  a  hint, 
Because  that  you  have  Cradock's  Book, 

and  may  see  more  in  Print. 
There  are  some  few,  it  may  be,  that 

are  clear  of  this  same  Trade; 
And  of  those  Men,  I  only  say, 

these  Verses  are  not  made. 


THE   BURWELL   PAPERS 

[The  so-called  "Burwell  Papers"  are  contained  in  an  incomplete  and 
imperfect  manuscript  which,  early  in  the  last  century,  was  in  the  possession 
of  the  Burwell  family  in  Virginia.  It  treats  of  "Bacon's  Rebellion,"  the 
civil  disturbance  that  agitated  the  Virginia  colony  in  1676.  The  name  of 
the  author  and  the  exact  time  of  composition  are  matters  of  conjecture;  but 
it  was  evidently  written  by  a  partisan  of  the  royal  governor,  very  soon  after 
the  occurrence  of  the  events  that  it  narrates.  It  offers  an  interesting  contrast 
to  the  writings  of  the  earliest  settlers  in  Virginia,  and  shows  how  Southern 
writers  followed  the  literary  fashions  of  England.  It  illustrates  the  con 
ceits,  the  prolixity,  and  the  striving  after  effect  that  characterize  the  most 
artificial  Restoration  prose.  Two  poems  on  Bacon's  death,  at  least  one  of 
which  is  by  some  other  person  than  the  author  of  the  main  narrative,  are 
interesting  specimens  of  the  verse  of  the  period. 

The  Burwell  Papers  have  been  twice  printed  by  the  Massachusetts  His 
torical  Society  —  first,  from  an  inaccurate  copy,  in  the  Collections,  Series 
II,  Vol.  I;  and  again  in  the  Proceedings  for  1866-1867.  The  selections 
that  follow  are  from  the  latter  reprint.] 

THE  SIEGE  OF  JAMESTOWN 

The  Towne  being  thus  forsaken,  by  the  Baconians,  his  Honour 
enters  the  same  the  next  day,  about  noone;  where  after  he  had 
rendered  thanks  unto  God  for  his  safe  arivall  (which  he  forgot  not 
to  perform  upon  his  knees,  at  his  first  footeing  the  shore)  hee 
applyes  himselfe  not  onely  to  secure  what  he  had  got  possesion 
of,  but  to  increace  and  inlarge  the  same  to  his  best  advantage. 
And  knowing  that  the  people  of  ould  useally  painted  the  God  of 
war  with  a  belly  to  be  fed,  as  well  as  with  hands  to  fight,  he  began 
to  cast  about  for  the  bringing  in  of  provissions  for  to  feed  his 
soulders;  and  in  the  next  place  for  soulders,  as  well  to  reinforce 
his  strength  with  in,  as  to  inlarge  his  quarters  abrode :  But  as  the 
saying  is,  Man  may  propose,  but  God  will  dispose;  when  that 
his  honour  thought  him  selfe  so  much  at  liberty,  that  he  might 
have  the  liberty  to  go  when  and  where  he  pleased,  his  expectations 
became  very  speedily  &  in  a  moment  frusterated. 

For  Bacon  haveing  don  his  buisness  against  the  Indians,  or  at 
least  so  much  as  he  was  able  to  do,  haveing  marched  his  men  with 
a  grate  deale  of  toyle  &  haserd  som  hundreds  of  miles,  one  way 
and  another,  killing  som  and  takeing  others  prissoners,  and  haveing 

181 


182  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

spent  his  provissions,  draws  in  his  forces  with  in  the  verge  of 
the  English  Plantations,  from  whence  he  dismiseth  the  gratest 
part  of  his  Army  to  gether  strength  against  the  next  designed 
March,  which  was  no  sooner  don  but  he  incounters  the  newes  of 
the  Governours  being  arived  at  town.  Of  which  being  informed 
he  with  a  marvellous  cellerity  (outstriping  the  swift  wings  of  fame) 
marcheth  those  few  men  now  with  him  (which  hee  had  onely  re- 
sarved  as  a  gard  to  his  parson)  and  in  a  trice  blocks  up  the  Gov- 
ernour  in  Towne,  to  the  generall  astonishment  of  the  wholl  Coun- 
trey;  especially  when  that  Bacons  numbers  was  knowne;  which 
at  this  time  did  not  exseed  above  a  hundred  and  fifty,  and  these 
not  above  two  thirds  at  worke  neather.  An  action  of  so  strange 
an  Aspect,  that  who  ever  tooke  notis  of  it,  could  not  chuse  but 
thinke  but  that  the  Accomackians  eather  intended  to  receve  their 
promised  pay,  without  disart;  or  other  ways  to  establish  such 
signall  testimonies  of  there  cowerdize  or  disaffections,  or  both, 
that  posterity  might  stand  &  gaze  at  there  reched  stupidety. 

Bacon  soone  perceved  what  easey  worke  he  was  likely  to  have, 
in  this  servis,  and  so  began  to  set  as  small  an  esteeme  upon  these 
mens  curages,  as  they  did  upon  there  owne  credits.  Hee  saw,  by 
the  Prolog,  what  sport  might  be  expected  in  the  play,  and  soe 
began  to  dispose  of  his  affaires  accordingly.  Yet  not  knowing 
but  that  the  paucity  of  his  numbers  being  once  knowne,  to  those 
in  Towne,  it  might  raise  there  hearts  to  a  degree  of  curage,  have- 
ing  so  much  the  ods,  and  that  mani-times  number  prevales  against 
ressalution,  he  thought  it  not  amiss,  since  the  Lions  strength 
was  too  weake,  to  strengthen  the  same  with  the  Foxes  Braines: 
and  how  this  was  to  be  efected  you  shall  heare. 

For  emediately  he  despacheth  two  or  three  parties  of  Horss, 
and  about  so  many  in  each  party,  for  more  he  could  not  spare,  to 
bring  in  to  the  Camp  some  of  the  prime  Gent:  Women,  whose 
Husbands  were  in  towne.  Where  when  arived  he  sends  one  of 
them  to  inform  her  owne,  and  others  Husbands,  for  what  pur 
poses  he  had  brought  them  into  the  camp,  namely,  to  be  plac'd  in 
the  fore  frunt  of  his  Men,  at  such  time  as  those  in  towne  should 
sally  forth  upon  him. 

The  poore  Gent:  Women  were  mightely  astonish'd  at  this 
project;  neather  were  there  Husbands  voide  of  amazements  at 


THE  BURWELL  PAPERS  183 

this  subtill  invention.  If  Mr.  Fuller  thought  it  strange,  that  the 
Divells  black  gard  should  be  enrouled  Gods  soulders,  they  made 
it  no  less  wonderfull,  that  there  innocent  and  harmless  Wives 
should  thus  be  entred  a  white  garde  to  the  Divell.  This  action 
was  a  Method,  in  war,  that  they  were  not  well  aquainted  with  (no 
not  those  the  best  inform'd  in  millitary  affaires)  that  before  they 
could  com  to  pearce  their  enimies  sides,  they  must  be  obliged  to 
dart  there  wepons  through  there  wives  brest:  By  which  meanes 
though  they  (in  there  owne  parsons)  might  escape  without  wounds ; 
yet  it  might  be  the  lamentable  fate  of  there  better  halfe  to  drop  by 
gunshott,  or  other  ways  be  wounded  to  death. 

Whether  it  was  these  Considerations,  or  som  others,  I  do  not 
know,  that  kep  their  swords  in  there  scabards:  But  this  is  mani 
fest,  That  Bacon  knit  more  knotts  by  his  owne  head  in  one  day, 
then  all  the  hands  in  Towne  was  able  to  untye  in  a  wholl  weeke : 
While  these  Ladyes  white  Aprons  became  of  grater  force  to  keepe 
the  beseiged  from  salleing  out  then  his  works  (a  pittifull  trench) 
had  strength  to  repell  the  weakest  shot,  that  should  have  bin  sent 
into  his  Legure,  had  he  not  made  use  of  this  invention. 

For  it  is  to  be  noted  that  rite  in  his  frunt,  where  he  was  to  lodge 
his  Men,  the  Governour  had  planted  3  grate  Guns,  for  to  play 
poynt  blank  upon  his  Men,  as  they  were  at  worke,  at  about  100  or  a 
150  paces  distance;  and  then  againe,  on  his  right  hand,  all  most 
close  aborde  the  shore,  lay  the  ships,  with  ther  broade  sides,  to 
thunder  upon  him  if  he  should  offer  to  make  an  onslaute:  this 
being  the  onely  place,  by  land,  for  him  to  make  his  entrey,  into  the 
Towne:  But  for  your  better  satisfaction,  or  rather  those  who  you 
may  show  this  Naritive  to,  who  have  never  bin  upon  the  place, 
take  this  short  description. 

The  place,  on  which  the  Towne  is  built,  is  a  perfict  Peninsulla, 
or  tract  of  Land,  all  most  wholly  incompast  with  WTater.  Have- 
ing  on  the  Sowth  side  the  River  (Formerly  Powhetan,  now  called 
James  River)  3  miles  brode,  Incompast  on  the  North,  from  the 
east  point,  with  a  deep  Creeke,  rangeing  in  a  cemicircle,  to  the 
west,  with  in  10  paces  of  the  River;  and  there,  by  a  smalle  Istmos, 
tacked  to  the  Continent.  This  Iseland  (for  so  it  is  denominate) 
hath  for  Longitud  (east  and  west)  nere  upo  2  miles,  and  for  Lat- 
titude  about  halfe  so  much,  beareing  in  the  wholl  compass  about 


184  EARLY  AMERICAN   WRITERS 

5  miles,  litle  more  or  less.  It  is  low-ground,  full  of  Marches  and 
Swomps,  which  makes  the  Aire,  especially  in  the  Sumer,  insalu- 
britious  &  unhelty:  It  is  not  at  all  replenish'd  with  springs  of 
fresh  water,  &  that  which  they  have  in  ther  Wells,  brackish,  ill 
sented,  penurious,  and  not  gratef ull  to  the  stumack ;  which  render 
the  place  improper  to  indure  the  commencement  of  a  seige.  The 
Towne  is  built  much  about  the  midle  of  the  Sowth  line,  close  upon 
the  River,  extending  east  and  west,  about  3  quarters  of  a  mile ;  in 
which  is  comprehended  som  16  or  18  howses,  most  as  is  the 
Church,  built  of  Brick,  faire  and  large;  and  in  them  about  a  dozen 
ffamilles  (for  all  the  howses  are  not  inhabited)  getting  there  live- 
ings  by  keepeing  of  ordnaries,  at  exstreordnary  rates. 

The  Governour  understanding  that  the  Gent:  Women,  at  the 
Legure,  was,  by  order,  drawne  out  of  danger,  resalved,  if  posible, 
to  beate  Bacon  out  of  his  trench ;  which  he  thought  might  easely 
be  performed,  now  that  his  Gardian  Angles  had  forsaken  his 
Camp.  For  the  efecting  of  which  he  sent  forth  7  or  (as  they  say) 
800  of  his  Accomackians,  who  (like  scholers  goeing  to  schoole) 
went  out  with  hevie  harts,  but  returnd  horn  with  light  heeles; 
thinkeing  it  better  to  turne  there  backs  upon  that  storme,  that 
there  brests  could  not  indure  to  strugle  against,  for  feare  of  being 
gauled  in  there  sides,  or  other  parts  of  there  bodys,  through  the 
sharpness  of  the  wether;  which  (after  a  terable  noyse  of  thunder 
and  lightning  out  of  the  Easte)  began  to  blow  with  a  powder  (and 
som  leade  too  as  big  as  musquitt  boolitts)  full  in  there  faces,  and 
that  with  so  grate  a  violence,  that  som  off  them  was  not  able  to 
stand  upon  there  leggs,  which  made  the  rest  betake  them  selves  to 
there  heeles;  as  the  onely  expedient  to  save  there  lives;  which 
som  amongst  them  had  rather  to  have  lost,  then  to  have  own'd 
there  safty  at  the  price  of  such  dishonourable  rates. 

The  Governour  was  exstremly  disgusted  at  the  ill  management 
of  this  action,  which  he  exprest  in  som  passionate  terms,  against 
those  who  merited  the  same.  But  in  ernist,  who  could  expect  the 
event  to  be  other  ways  then  it  was,  when  at  the  first  notis  given,  for 
the  designed  salley  to  be  put  in  execution,  som  of  the  officers 
made  such  crabed  faces  at  the  report  of  the  same,  that  the  Guner 
of  Yorke  Fort  did  proffer  to  purchase,  for  any  that  would  buy, 
a  Collonells,  or  a  Captains,  Commission,  for  a  chunke  of  a  pipe. 


THE  BURWELL  PAPERS  185 

The  next  day  Bacon  orders  3  grate  Guns  to  be  brought  into 
the  Camp,  two  where  of  he  plants  upon  his  trench.  The  one  he 
sets  to  worke  (playing  som  calls  itt,  that  takes  delight  to  see 
stately  structurs  beated  downe,  and  Men  blowne  up  into  the  aire 
like  Shutle  Cocks)  against  the  Ships,  the  other  against  the  enter- 
ance  into  Towne,  for  to  open  a  pasage  to  his  intended  Storm, 
which  now  was  resalved  upon  as  he  said,  &  which  was  prevented 
by  the  Governours  forsakeing  the  place,  and  shiping  himselfe, 
once  more  to  Accomack;  takeing  along  with  him  all  the  Towne 
people,  and  there  goods,  leaveing  all  the  grate  Guns  naled  up, 
and  the  bowses  emty,  for  Bacon  to  enter  at  his  pleasure,  and  which 
he  did  the  next  morning  before  day:  Where,  contrary  to  his  hopes, 
he  met  with  nothing  that  might  satisfie  eather  him  selfe  or  soul- 
ders  desires,  except  few  Horsses,  two  or  three  sellers  of  wine,  and 
som  small  quantety  of  Indian  Corne  with  a  grate  many  Tan'd  hides. 

THE  DEATH   OF  BACON  AND   THE   ACCESSION   OF 

INGRAM 

Bacon  haveing  for  som  time,  bin  beseiged  by  sickness,  and 
now  not  able  to  hould  out  any  longer;  all  his  strength,  and  pro- 
vissions  being  spent,  surrendred  up  that  Fort  he  was  no  longer 
able  to  keepe,  into  the  hands  of  that  grim  and  all  conquering 
Captaine,  Death ;  after  that  he  had  implord  the  assistance  of 
the  above  mentioned  Minester,  for  the  well  makeing  his  Artickles 
of  Rendition.  The  onely  Religious  duty  (as  they  say)  he  was  ob- 
serv'd  to  perform  dureing  these  Intregues  of  affaires,  in  which  he 
was  so  considerable  an  actor,  and  soe  much  consearn'd,  that 
rather  then  he  would  decline  the  cause,  he  be  came  so  deeply  in 
gaged  in,  in  the  first  rise  there  of,  though  much  urged  by  argu 
ments  of  dehortations,  by  his  nearest  Relations  and  best  friends, 
that  he  subjected  him  selfe  to  all  those  inconvenences  that,  singly, 
might  bring  a  Man  of  a  more  Robust  frame  to  his  last  horn. 
After  he  was  dead  he  was  bemoned  in  these  following  lines  (drawne 
by  the  Man  that  waited  upon  his  person,  as  it  is  said)  and  who 
attended  his  Corps  to  there  Buriall  place:  But  where  depossited 
till  the  Generall  day,  not  knowne,  onely  to  those  who  are  ressa- 
lutly  silent  in  that  particuler.  There  was  many  coppes  of  Verces 


1 86  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

made  after  his  departure,  calculated  to  the  Lattitude  of  there  affec 
tions  who  composed  them ;  as  a  rellish  taken  from  both  appetites 
I  have  here  sent  you  a  cuple. 

Bacons  Epitaph,  made  by  his  Man. 

Death  why  soe  crewill !   what  no  other  way 
To  manifest  thy  splleene,  but  thus  to  slay 
Our  hopes  of  safety;   liberty,  our  all 
Which,  through  thy  tyrany,  with  him  must  fall 
To  its  late  Caoss?     Had  thy  riged  force 
Bin  delt  by  retale,  and  not  thus  in  gross 
Grief e  had  bin  silent:   Now  wee  must  complaine 
Since  thou,  in  him,  hast  more  then  thousand  slane 
Whose  lives  and  safetys  did  so  much  depend 
On  him  there  lif,  with  him  there  lives  must  end. 

If't  be  a  sin  to  thinke  Death  brib'd  can  bee 
Wee  must  be  guilty;   say  twas  bribery 
Guided  the  fatall  shaft.     Verginias  foes 
To  whom  for  secrit  crimes,  just  vengeance  owes 
Disarved  plagues,  dreding  their  just  disart 
Corrupted  Death  by  Parasscellcian  art 
Him  to  destroy;   whose  well  tride  curage  such 
There  heartless  harts,  nor  arms,  nor  strength  could  touch. 

Who  now  must  heale  those  wounds,  or  stop  that  blood 
The  Heathen  made,  and  drew  into  a  flood? 
Who  i'st  must  pleade  our  Cause  ?  nor  Trump  nor  Drum 
Nor  Deputations;   these  alass  are  dumb. 
And  Cannot  speake.     Our  Arms  (though  nere  so  strong) 
Will  want  the  aide  of  his  Commanding  tongue, 
Which  Conquer'd  more  than  Ceaser:   He  orethrew 
Onely  the  outward  frame;   this  Could  subdue 
The  ruged  workes  of  nature.     Soules  repleate 
With  dull  Child  could,  he'd  annemate  with  heate 
Drawne  forth  of  reasons  Lymbick.     In  a  word 
Marss  and  Minerva,  both  in  him  Concurd 
For  arts,  for  arms,  whose  pen  and  sword  alike 
As  Catos  did,  may  admireation  strike 


THE  BURWELL  PAPERS  187 

In  to  his  foes;   while  they  confess  with  all 
It  was  there  guilt  stil'd  him  a  Criminall. 
Onely  this  differance  doth  from  truth  proceed 
They  in  the  guilt,  he  in  the  name  must  bleed 
While  none  shall  dare  his  Obseques  to  sing 
In  disarv'd  measures;   untill  time  shall  bring 
Truth  Crown'd  with  freedom,  and  from  danger  free 
To  sound  his  praises  to  posterity. 

Here  let  him  rest;  while  wee  this  truth  report 
Hee's  gon  from  hence  unto  a  higher  Court 
To  pleade  his  Cause:   where  he  by  this  doth  know 
WHETHER  TO  CEASER  HEE  WAS  FRIEND,  OR  FOE. 

Upon  the  Death  of  G:  B. 

Whether  to  Ceaser  he  was  Friend  or  Foe? 
Pox  take  such  Ignorance,  do  you  not  know? 
Can  he  be  Friend  to  Ceaser,  that  shall  bring 
The  Arms  of  Hell,  to  fight  against  the  King? 
(Treason,  Rebellion)  then  what  reason  have 
Wee  for  to  waite  upon  him  to  his  Grave, 
There  to  express  our  passions  ?    Wilt  not  bee 
Worss  then  his  Crimes,  to  sing  his  Ellegie 
In  well  tun'd  numbers ;   where  each  Ella  beares 
(To  his  Flagitious  name)  a  flood  of  teares? 
A  name  that  hath  more  soules  with  sorow  fed, 
Then  reched  Niobe,  single  teares  ere  shed; 
A  name  that  fiPd  all  hearts,  all  eares,  with  paine, 
Untill  blest  fate  proclamed,  Death  had  him  slane. 
Then  how  can  it  be  counted  for  a  sin 
Though  Death  (nay  though  my  selfe)  had  bribed  bin, 
To  guide  the  fatall  shaft?  we  honour  all 
That  lends  a  hand  unto  a  T[r]ators  fall. 
What  though  the  well  paide  Rochit  soundly  ply 
And  box  the  Pulpitt,  in  to  flatterey; 
Urging  his  Rhethorick,  and  straind  elloquence, 
T'  adorne  incoffin'd  filth  and  excrements; 
Though  the  Defunct  (like  ours)  nere  tride 


l88  EARLY  AMERICAN   WRITERS 

A  well  intended  deed  untill  he  dide  ? 
'Twill  be  nor  sin,  nor  shame,  for  us,  to  say 
A  two  fould  Passion  checker-workes  this  day 
Of  Joy  and  Sorow;   yet  the  last  doth  move 
On  feete  impotent,  wanting  strength  to  prove 
(Nor  can  the  art  of  Logick  yeild  releife) 
How  Joy  should  be  surmounted,  by  our  greife. 
Yet  that  wee  Grieve  it  cannot  be  denide, 
But  'tis  because  he  was,  not  cause  he  dide. 
So  wep  the  poore  destresed,  Ilyum  Dames 
Hereing  those  nam'd,  there  Citty  put  in  flames, 
And  Country  ruing'd;   If  wee  thus  lament 
It  is  against  our  present  Joyes  consent. 
For  if  the  rule,  in  Phisick,  trew  doth  prove, 
Remove  the  cause,  th'  effects  will  after  move, 
We  have  outliv'd  our  sorows;  since  we  see 
The  Causes  shifting,  of  our  miserey. 

Nor  is't  a  single  cause,  that's  slipt  away, 
That  made  us  warble  out,  a  well-a-day. 
The  Braines  to  plot,  the  hands  to  execute 
Projected  ills,  Death  Joyntly  did  nonsute 
At  his  black  Bar.    And  what  no  Baile  could  save 
He  hath  committed  Prissoner  to  the  Grave; 
From  whence  there's  no  repreive.     Death  keep  him  close 
We  have  too  many  Dwells  still  goe  loose. 

Ingrams  Proceedings. 

The  Lion  had  no  sooner  made  his  exitt,  but  the  Ape  (by  indubi 
table  right)  steps  upon  the  stage.  Bacon  was  no  sooner  removed 
by  the  hand  of  good  providence,  but  another  steps  in,  by  the 
wheele  of  fickle  fortune.  The  Countrey  had,  for  som  time,  bin 
guided  by  a  company  of  knaves,  now  it  was  to  try  how  it  would 
behave  it  selfe  under  a  foole.  Bacon  had  not  long  bin  dead, 
(though  it  was  a  long  time  be  fore  som  would  beleive  that  he  was 
dead)  but  one  Ingram  (or  Isgrum,  which  you  will)  takes  up 
Bacons  Commission  (or  ells  by  the  patterne  of  that  cuts  him  out 
a  new  one)  and  as  though  he  had  bin  his  natureall  heire,  or  that 


THE   BURWELL  PAPERS  189 

Bacons  Commission  had  bin  granted  not  onely  to  him  selfe,  but 
to  his  Executors,  Administrates,  and  Assignes,  he  (in  the  Milli- 
tary  Court)  takes  out  a  Probit  of  Bacons  will,  and  proclames  him 
selfe  his  Successer. 

This  Ingram,  when  that  he  came  first  into  the  Countrey,  had 
gott  upon  his  Back  the  title  of  an  Esquire,  but  how  he  came  by  it 
may  pussell  all  the  Herolds  in  England  to  finde  out,  u[n]till  he 
informs  them  of  his  right  name :  how  ever,  by  the  helpe  of  this  (and 
his  fine  capering,  for  it  is  saide  that  he  could  dance  well  upon  a 
rope)  he  caper'd  him  selfe  in  to  a  fine  (though  short  liv'd)  estate : 
by  marying,  here,  with  a  rich  Widow,  vallued  at  som  hundreds  of 
pounds. 

The  first  thing  that  this  fine  fellow  did,  after  that  he  was  mounted 
upon  the  back  of  his  Commission,  was  to  Spur,  or  Switch,  those 
who  were  to  pay  obedience  unto  his  Authorety,  by  geting  him 
selfe  proclaimed  Generall  of  all  the  forces,  now  raised,  or  here 
after  to  be  raised,  in  Verginia :  Which  while  it  was  performing  at 
the  head  of  the  Army,  the  Milke-sop  stoode  with  his  hatt  in  his 
hand,  lookeing  as  demurely  as  the  grate  Turks  Mustie,  at  the 
readeing  som  holy  sentance,  extracted  forth  of  the  Alchron.  The 
Bell-man  haveing  don,  he  put  on  his  hat,  and  his  Janessarys  threw 
up  there  Caps;  crying  out  as  lowde  as  they  could  Bellow,  God 
save  our  new  Generall,  hopeing,  no  dout,  but  he,  in  imitation 
of  the  grat  Sultaine,  at  his  election,  would  have  inlarged  there  pay, 
or  ells  have  given  them  leave  to  have  made  Jewes  of  the  best 
Christians  in  the  Countrey:  but  he  being  more  than  halfe  a  jew 
him  self,  at  present  forbad  all  plundrings,  but  such  as  he  him  selfe 
should  be  parsonally  at. 


MARY   ROWLANDSON 

[The  early  accounts  of  captivity  among  the  Indians  are  interesting  for  the 
pictures  they  give  of  pioneer  hardships  and  of  the  life  of  the  savages;  and 
they  are  important  because  in  early  New  England  they  were  almost  the  only 
form  of  writing  that  gratified  the  love  for  tales  of  adventure.  One  of  the 
most  notable  of  these  accounts  is  that  of  Mary  Rowlandson,  wife  of  the 
pastor  at  Lancaster,  Mass.,  who  suffered  an  especially  trying  period  of  cap 
tivity  in  1676.  According  to  the  preface,  "This  Narrative  was  penned  by 
the  Gentlewoman  her  self,  to  be  to  her  a  memorandum  of  Gods  dealing  with 
her."  She  was  persuaded,  however,  to  make  it  public,  and  it  was  printed 
at  Cambridge  in  1682  with  the  title  "The  Soveraignty  &  Goodness  of  God 
Together  With  the  Faithfulness  of  his  Promises  Displayed;  Being  a  Narra 
tive  of  the  Captivity  and  Restauration  of  Mrs.  Mary  Rowlandson."  The 
narrative  went  through  two  American  editions  and  one  English  edition  in 
1682,  and  has  since  been  many  times  reprinted.  It  owes  its  interest  not 
only  to  the  graphic  account  of  fascinating  though  horrible  events,  but  to  the 
unconscious  revelation  of  the  author's  character. 

No  copy  of  the  first  edition  is  known  to  exist.  The  selections  here  given 
follow  the  rare  second  edition,  Cambridge,  1682,  as  reprinted  in  facsimile 
by  Henry  Stedman  Nourse  and  John  Eliot  Thayer,  Lancaster,  1903.  The 
work  of  the  colonial  printer  was  very  crude  and  inaccurate,  but  the  reader 
will  ordinarily  find  no  difficulty  in  making  necessary  emendations  in  the  text.] 

THE  BEGINNING   OF  THE   CAPTIVITY 

[From  "The  Narrative  of  the  Captivity,"  etc.] 

On  the  tenth  of  February  1675,  Came  the  Indians  with  great 
numbers  upon  Lancaster:  Their  first  coming  was  about  Sun- 
rising;  hearing  the  noise  of  some  Guns,  we  looked  out;  several 
Houses  were  burning,  and  the  Smoke  ascending  to  Heaven. 
There  were  five  persons  taken  in  one  house,  the  Father,  and  the 
Mother  and  a  sucking  Child  they  knockt  on  the  head ;  the  other 
two  they  took  and  carried  away  alive.  Their  were  two  others, 
who  being  out  of  their  Garison  upon  some  occasion,  were  set  upon ; 
one  was  knockt  on  the  head,  the  other  escaped:  Another  their 
was  who  running  along  was  shot  and  wounded,  and  fell  down ;  he 

190 


MARY   ROW  LAND  SON 


begged  of  them  his  life,  promising  them  Money  (as  they  told  me) 
but  they  would  not  hearken  to  him  but  knockt  him  in  head,  and 
stript  him  naked,  and  split  open  his  Bowels.  Another  seeing 
many  of  the  Indians  about  his  Barn,  ventured  and  went  out,  but 
was  quickly  shot  down.  There  were  three  others  belonging  to 
the  same  Garison  who  were  killed;  the  Indians  getting  up  upon 
the  roof  of  the  Barn,  had  advantage  to  shoot  down  upon  them 
over  their  Fortification.  Thus  these  murtherous  wretches  went 
on,  burning,  and  destroying  before  them, 

At  length  they  came  and  beset  our  own  house,  and  quickly  it 
was  the  dolefullest  day  that  ever  mine  eyes  saw.  The  House 
stood  upon  the  edg  of  a  hill ;  some  of  the  Indians  got  behind  the 
hill,  others  into  the  Barn,  and  others  behind  any  thing  that  could 
shelter  them;  from  all  which  places  they  shot  against  the  House, 
so  that  the  Bullets  seemed  to  fly  like  hail;  and  quickly  they 
wounded  one  man  among  us,  then  another,  and  then  a  third, 
About  two  hours  (according  to  my  observation,  in  that  amazing 
time)  they  had  been  about  the  house  before  they  prevailed  to  fire 
it  (which  they  did  with  Flax  and  Hemp,  which  they  brought  out 
of  the  Barn,  and  there  being  no  defence  about  the  House,  only 
two  Flankers  at  two  opposite  corners  and  one  of  them  not  finished) 
they  fired  it  once  and  one  ventured  out  and  quenched  it,  but  they 
quickly  fired  it  again,  and  that  took  Now  is  the  dreadfull  hour 
come,  that  I  have  often  heard  of  (in  time  of  War,  as  it  was  the 
case  of  others)  but  now  mine  eyes  see  it.  Some  in  our  house  were 
fighting  for  their  lives,  others  wallowing  in  their  blood,  the  House 
on  fire  over  our  heads,  and  the  bloody  Heathen  ready  to  knock 
us  on  the  head,  if  we  stired  out.  Now  might  we  hear  Mothers  & 
Children  crying  out  for  themselves,  and  one  another,  Lord,  what 
shall  we  do  ?  Then  I  took  my  Children  (and  one  of  my  sisters, 
hers)  to  go  forth  and  leave  the  house :  but  as  soon  as  we  came  to 
the  dore  and  appeared,  the  Indians  shot  so  thick  that  the  bulletts 
rattled  against  the  House,  as  if  one  had  taken  an  handfull  of 
stones  and  threw'  them,  so  that  we  were  fain  to  give  back.  We 
had  six  stout  Dogs  belonging  to  our  Garrison,  but  none  of  them 
would  stir,  though  another  time,  if  any  Indian  had  come  to  the 
door,  they  were  ready  to  fly  upon  him  and  tear  him  down.  The 
Lord  hereby  would  make  us  the  more  to  acknowledge  his  hand,  and 


192  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

to  see  that  our  help  is  always  in  him.  But  out  we  must  go,  the  fire 
increasing,  and  coming  along  behind  us,  roaring,  and  the  Indians 
gaping  before  us  with  their  Guns,  Spears  and  Hatchets  to  devour 
us.  No  sooner  were  we  out  of  the  House,  but  my  Brother  in  Law 
(being  before  wounded,  in  defending  the  house,  in  or  near  the 
throat)  fell  down  dead,  whereat  the  Indians  scornfully  shouted, 
and  hallowed,  and  were  presently  upon  him,  stripping  off  his 
cloaths,  the  bulletts  flying  thick,  one  went  through  my  side,  and 
the  same  (as  would  seem)  through  the  bowels  and  hand  of  my 
dear  Child  in  my  arms.  One  of  my  elder  Sisters  Children,  named 
William,  had  then  his  Leg  broken,  which  the  Indians  perceiving, 
they  knockt  him  on  head.  Thus  were  we  butchered  by  those 
merciless  Heathen,  standing  amazed,  with  the  blood  running 
down  to  our  heels.  My  eldest  Sister  being  yet  in  the  House,  and 
seeing  those  wofull  sights,  the  Infidels  haling  Mothers  one  way, 
and  Children  another,  and  some  wallowing  in  their  blood:  and 
her  elder  Son  telling  her  that  her  Son  William  was  dead,  and  my 
self  was  wounded,  she  said,  And,  Lord,  let  me  dy  with  them;  which 
was  no  sooner  said,  but  she  was  struck  with  a  Bullet,  and  fell 
down  dead  over  the  threshold.  I  hope  she  is  reaping  the  fruit  of 
her  good  labours,  being  faithfull  to  the  service  of  God  in  her  place. 
In  her  younger  years  she  lay  under  much  trouble  upon  spiritual 
accounts,  till  it  pleased  God  to  make  that  precious  Scripture  take 
hold  of  her  heart,  2  Cor.  12.  9.  And  he  said  unto  me  my  Grace  is 
sufficient  for  thee.  More  then  twenty  years  after  I  have  heard  her 
tell  how  sweet  and  comfortable  that  place  was  to  her,  But  to 
return :  The  Indians  laid  hold  of  me,  pulling  me  one  way,  and  the 
Children  another,  and  said,  Come  go  along  with  us;  I  told  them 
they  would  kill  me :  they  answered,  If  I  were  willing  to  go  along 
with  them  they  would  not  hurt  me. 

Oh  the  dolefull  sight  that  now  was  to  behold  at  this  House ! 
Come,  behold  the  works  of  the  Lord,  what  dissolations  he  has  made 
in  the  Earth.  Of  thirty  seven  persons  who  were  in  this  one 
House,  none  escaped  either  present  death,  or  a  bitter  captivity, 
save  only  one,  who  might  say  as  he.  Job.  1.15.  And  I  only  am 
escaped  alone  to  tell  the  News.  There  were  twelve  killed,  some 
shot,  some  stab'd  with  their  Spears,  some  knock'd  down  with 
their  Hatchets.  When  we  are  in  prosperity,  Oh  the  little  that  we 


MARY  ROWLANDSON  193 

think  of  such  dreadfull  sights,  and  to  see  our  dear  Friends,  and 
Relations  ly  bleeding  out  their  heart-blood  upon  the  ground. 
There  was  one  who  was  chopt  into  the  head  with  a  Hatchet,  and 
stript  naked,  and  yet  was  crawling  up  and  down.  It  is  a  solemn 
sight  to  see  so  many  Christians  lying  in  their  blood,  some  here, 
and  some  there,  like  a  company  of  Sheep  torn  by  Wolves.  All 
of  them  stript  naked  by  a  company  of  hell-hounds,  roaring,  sing 
ing,  ranting  and  insulting,  as  if  they  would  have  torn  our  very 
hearts  out ;  yet  the  Lord  by  his  Almighty  power  preserved  a  num 
ber  of  us  from  death,  for  there  were  twenty-four  of  us  taken  alive 
and  carried  Captive. 

/  had  often  before  this  said,  that  if  the  Indians  should  come,  I 
should  chuse  rather  to  be  killed  by  them  then  taken  alive  but  when  it 
came  to  the  tryal  my  mind  changed ;  their  glittering  weapons  so 
daunted  my  spirit,  that  I  chose  rather  to  go  along  with  those  (as 
I  may  say)  ravenous  Bears,  then  that  moment  to  end  my  dayes; 
and  that  I  may  the  better  declare  what  happened  to  me  during 
thaf  grievous  Captivity  I  shall  particularly  speak  of  the  severall 
Removes  we  had  up  and  down  the  Wilderness. 

The  first  Remove. 

Now  away  we  must  go  with  those  Barbarous  Creatures,  with 
our  bodies  wounded  and  bleeding,  and  our  hearts  no  less  than 
our  bodies.  About  a  mile  we  went  that  night,  up  upon  a  hill 
within  sight  of  the  Town  where  they  intended  to  lodge.  There 
was  hard  by  a  vacant  house  (deserted  by  the  English  before,  for 
fear  of  the  Indians)  I  asked  them  whether  I  might  not  lodge  in 
the  house  that  night  to  which  they  answered,  what  will  you  love 
English  men  still?  this  was  the  dolefullest  night  that  ever  my 
eyes  saw.  Oh  the  roaring,  and  singing  and  danceing,  and  yelling 
of  those  black  creatures  in  the  night,  which  made  the  place  a 
lively  resemblance  of  hell  And  as  miserable  was  the  wast  that 
was  there  made,  of  Horses,  Cattle,  Sheep,  Swine,  Calves,  Lambs, 
Roasting  Pigs,  and  Fowl  [which  they  had  plundered  in  the  Town] 
some  roasting,  some  lying  and  burning,  and  some  boyling  to  feed 
our  merciless  Enemies ;  who  were  joyful  enough  though  we  were 
disconsolate  To  add  to  the  dolefulness  of  the  former  day,  and 


194  EARLY  AMERICAN   WRITERS 

the  dismalness  of  the  present  night:  my  thoughts  ran  upon  my 
losses  and  sad  bereaved  condition.  All  was  gone,  my  Husband 
gone  (at  least  separated  from  me,  he  being  in  the  Bay;  and  to  add 
to  my  grief,  the  Indians  told  me  they  would  kill  him  as  he  came 
homeward)  my  Children  gone,  my  Relations  and  Friends  gone, 
our  House  and  home  and  all  our  comforts  within  door,  and  with 
out,  all  was  gone,  (except  my  life)  and  I  knew  not  but  the  next 
moment  that  might  go  too.  There  remained  nothing  to  me  but 
one  poor  wounded  Babe,  and  it  seemed  at  present  worse  than 
death  that  it  was  in  such  a  pitiful  condition,  bespeaking,  Com 
passion,  and  I  had  no  refreshing  for  it,  nor  suitable  things  to 
revive  it,  Little  do  many  think  what  is  the  savageness  and 
bruitishness  of  this  barbarous  Enemy;  even  those  that  seem  to 
profess  more  than  others  among  them,  when  the  English  have 
fallen  into  their  hands. 

Those  seven  that  were  killed  at  Lancaster  the  summer  before 
upon  a  Sabbath  day,  and  the  one  that  was  afterward  killed  upon 
a  week  day,  were  slain  and  mangled  in  a  barbarous  manner,  by 
one-ey'd  John,  and  Marlborough's  Praying  Indians,  which  Capt. 
Mosely  brought  to  Boston,  as  the  Indians  told  me. 

The  second  Remove. 

But  now,  the  next  morning,  I  must  turn  my  back  upon  the  Town, 
and  travel  with  them  into  the  vast  and  desolate  Wilderness,  I  knew 
not  whither.  It  is  not  my  tongue,  or  pen  can  express  the  sorrows 
of  my  heart,  and  bitterness  of  my  spirit,  that  I  had  at  this  de 
parture  :  but  God  was  with  me,  in  a  wonderfull  manner,  carrying 
me  along,  and  bearing  up  my  spirit,  that  it  did  not  quite  fail 
One  of  the  Indians  carried  my  poor  wounded  Babe  upon  a  horse, 
it  went  moaning  all  along  I  shall  dy,  I  shall  dy.  I  went  on  foot 
after  it,  with  sorrow  that  cannot  be  exprest.  At  length  I  took  it 
off  the  horse,  and  carried  it  in  my  armes  till  my  strength  failed, 
and  I  fell  down  with  it :  Then  they  set  me  upon  a  horse  with  my 
wounded  Child  in  my  lap,  and  there  being  no  furnituure  upon  the 
horse  back ;  as  we  were  going  down  a  steep  hill,  we  both  fell  over 
the  horses  head,  at  which  they  like  inhumane  creatures  laught, 
and  rejoyced  to  see  it,  though  I  thought  we  should  there  have 


MARY  ROWLANDSON  195 

ended  our  dayes,  as  overcome  with  so  many  difficulties.  But 
the  Lord  renewed  my  strength  still,  and  carried  me  along,  that 
I  might  see  more  of  his  Power;  yea,  so  much  that  I  could  never 
have  thought  of,  had  I  not  experienced  it. 

After  this  it  quickly  began  to  snow,  and  when  night  came  on, 
they  stopt :  and  now  down  I  must  sit  in  the  snow,  by  a  little  fire, 
and  a  few  boughs  behind  me,  with  my  sick  Child  in  my  lap;  and 
calling  much  for  water,  being  now  (through  the  wound)  fallen  into 
a  violent  Fever.  My  own  wound  also  growing  so  stiff,  that  I  could 
scarce  sit  down  or  rise  up ;  yet  so  it  must  be,  that  I  must  sit  all 
this  cold  winter  night  upon  the  cold  snowy  ground,  with  my  sick 
Child  in  my  armes,  looking  that  every  hour  would  be  the  last  of 
its  life ;  and  having  no  Christian  friend  near  me,  either  to  comfort 
or  help  me.  Oh,  I  may  see  the  wonder/nil  power  of  God,  that  my 
Spirit  did  not  utterly  sink  under  my  affliction:  still  the  Lord  up 
held  me  with  his  gracious  and  mercifull  Spirit,  and  we  were  both 
alive  to  see  the  light  of  the  next  morning. 

SOME  INCIDENTS   OF  THE  EIGHTH  REMOVE 

[From  "The  Narrative  of  the  Captivity,"  etc.] 

We  travelled  on  till  night;  and  in  the  morning,  we  must  go  over 
the  River  to  Philip's  Crew.  When  I  was  in  the  Cannoe,  I  could 
not  but  be  amazed  at  the  numerous  crew  of  Pagans  that  were  on 
the  Bank  on  the  other  side.  When  I  came  ashore,  they  gathered 
all  about  me,  I  sitting  alone  in  the  midst :  I  observed  they  asked 
one  another  questions,  and  laughed,  and  rejoyced  over  their 
Gains  and  Victories.  Then  my  heart  began  to  fail:  and  I  fell 
a  weeping  which  was  the  first  time  to  my  remembrance,  that  I 
wept  before  them.  Although  I  had  met  with  so  much  Affliction, 
and  my  heart  was  many  times  ready  to  break,  yet  could  I  not  shed 
one  tear  in  their  sight :  but  rather  had  been  all  this  while  in  a  maze, 
and  like  one  astonished:  but  now  I  may  say  as,  Psal  137.  i.  By 
the  Rivers  of  Babylon,  there  we  sat  down :  yea,  we  wept  when  we 
remembered  Zion.  There  one  of  them  asked  me,  why  I  wept, 
I  could  hardly  tell  what  to  say:  yet  I  answered,  they  would  kill 
me:  No,  said  he,  none  will  hurt  you.  Then  came  one  of  them 
and  gave  me  two  spoon-fulls  of  Meal  to  comfort  me,  and  another 


ig6  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

gave  me  half  a  pint  of  Pease ;  which  was  more  worth  than  many 
Bushels  at  another  time.  Then  I  went  to  see  King  Philip,  he 
bade  me  come  in  and  sit  down,  and  asked  me  whether  I  would 
smoke  it  (a  usual  Complement  now  adayes  amongst  Saints  and 
Sinners)  but  this  no  way  suited  me.  For  though  I  had  formerly 
used  Tobacco,  yet  I  had  left  it  ever  since  I  was  first  taken.  It 
seems  to  be  a  Bait,  the  Devil  layes  to  make  men  loose  their  precious 
time:  I  remember  with  shame,  how  formerly,  when  I  had  taken 
two  or  three  pipes,  I  was  presently  ready  for  another,  such  a  be 
witching  thing  it  is :  But  I  thank  God,  he  has  now  given  me  power 
over  it;  surely  there  are  many  who  may  be  better  imployed  than 
to  ly  sucking  a  stinking  Tobacco-pipe. 

Now  the  Indians  gather  their  Forces  to  go  against  North- 
Hampton:  over-night  one  went  about  yelling  and  hooting  to  give 
notice  of  the  design.  Whereupon  they  fell  to  boyling  of  Ground 
nuts,  and  parching  of  Corn  (as  many  as  had  it)  for  their  Provi 
sion:  and  in  the  morning  away  they  went:  During  my  abode  in 
this  place,  Philip  spake  to  me  to  make  a  shirt  for  his  boy,  which 
I  did,  for  which  he  gave  me  a  shilling :  I  offered  the  many  to  my 
master,  but  he  bade  me  keep  it:  and  with  it  I  bought  a  piece  of 
Horseflesh.  Afterwards  he  asked  me  to  make  a  Cap  for  his  boy, 
for  which  he  invited  me  to  Dinner.  I  went,  and  he  gave  me  a 
Pancake,  about  as  big  as  two  fingers;  it  was  made  of  parched 
wheat,  beaten,  and  fryed  in  Bears  grease,  but  I  thought  I  never 
tasted  pleasanter  meat  in  my  life.  There  was  a  Squaw  who 
spake  to  me  to  make  a  shirt  for  her  Sannup,  for  which  she  gave 
me  a  piece  of  Bear.  Another  asked  me  to  knit  a  pair  of  Stockins, 
for  which  she  gave  me  a  quart  of  Pease :  I  boyled  my  Pease  and 
Bear  together,  and  invited  my  master  and  mistriss  to  dinner,  but 
the  proud  Gossip,  because  I  served  them  both  in  one  Dish,  would 
eat  nothing,  except  on  bit  that  he  gave  her  upon  the  point  of  his 
knife.  Hearing  that  my  son  was  come  to  this  place,  I  went  to 
see  him,  and  found  him  lying  flat  upon  the  ground :  I  asked  him 
how  he  could  sleep  so  ?  he  answered  me,  That  he  was  not  asleep , 
but  at  Prayer;  and  lay  so  that  they  might  not  observe  what  he 
was  doing.  I  pray  God  he  may  remember  these  things  now  he  is 
returned  in  safety.  At  this  Place  (the  sun  now  getting  higher) 
what  with  the  beams  and  heat  of  the  Sun,  and  the  smoak  of  the 


MARY  ROWLANDSON  197 

Wigwams,  I  thought  I  should  have  been  blind,  I  could  scarce 
discern  one  Wigwam  from  another.  There  was  here  one  Mary 
Thurston  of  Medfield,  who  seeing  how  it  was  with  me,  lent  me  a 
Hat  to  wear:  but  as  soon  as  I  was  gone,  the  Squaw  who  owned 
that  Mary  Thurston  came  running  after  me,  and  got  it  away 
again.  Here  was  the  Squaw  tJiat  gave  me  one  spoonfull  of  Meal. 
I  put  it  in  my  Pocket  to  keep  it  safe:  yet  notwithstanding  some 
body  stole  it,  but  put  five  Indian  Corns  in  the  room  of  it :  which 
Corns  were  the  greatest  Provisions  I  had  in  my  travel  for  one  day. 

THE   CONCLUDING  MEDITATION 

[From  "The  Narrative  of  the  Captivity,"  etc.] 

7  can  remember  the  time,  when  I  used  to  sleep  quietly  without 
workings  in  my  thoughts,  whole  nights  together,  but  now  it  is  other- 
wayes  with  me.  When  all  are  fast  about  me,  and  no  eye  open, 
but  his  who  ever  waketh,  my  thoughts  are  upon  things  past,  upon 
the  awf ull  dispensation  of  the  Lord  towards  us ;  upon  his  wonder- 
full  power  and  might,  in  carrying  of  us  through  so  many  diffi 
culties,  in  returning  us  in  safety,  and  suffering  none  to  hurt  us. 
I  remember  in  the  night  season,  how  the  other  day  I  was  in  the 
midst  of  thousands  of  enemies,  &  nothing  but  death  before  me: 
It  was  then  hard  work  to  perswade  my  self,  that  ever  I  should  be 
satisfied  with  bread  again.  But  now  we  are  fed  with  the  finest 
of  the  Wheat,  and,  as  I  may  say,  With  honey  out  of  the  rock: 
In  stead  of  the  Husk,  we  have  the  fatted  Calf:  The  thoughts  of 
these  things  in  the  particulars  of  them,  and  of  the  love  and  good 
ness  of  God  towards  us,  make  it  true  of  me,  what  David  said  of 
himself,  Psal.  6.  5.  I  watered  my  Couch  with  my  tears.  Oh !  the 
wonderfull  power  of  God  that  mine  eyes  have  seen,  affording 
matter  enough  for  my  thoughts  to  run  in,  that  when  others  are 
sleeping  mine  eyes  are  weeping. 

7  have  seen  the  extrem  vanity  of  this  World:  One  hour  I  have 
been  in  health,  and  wealth,  wanting  nothing:  But  the  next  hour 
in  sickness  and  wounds,  and  death,  having  nothing  but  sorrow  and 
affliction. 

Before  I  knew  what  affliction  means,  I  was  ready  sometimes  to 
wish  for  it.  When  I  lived  in  prosperity ;  having  the  comforts  of 


198  EARLY  AMERICAN   WRITERS 

the  World  about  me,  my  relations  by  me,  my  Heart  chearfull: 
and  taking  little  care  for  any  thing:  and  yet  seeing  many,  whom 
I  preferred  before  my  self,  under  many  tryals  and  afflictions,  in 
sickness,  weakness,  poverty,  losses,  crosses,  and  cares  of  the  World, 
I  should  be  sometimes  jealous  least  I  should  have  my  portion  in 
this  life,  and  that  Scripture  would  come  to  my  mind,  Heb.  12.  6. 
For  whom  the  Lord  loveth  he  chasteneth,  and  scour geth  every  Son 
whom  he  receiveth.  But  now  I  see  the  Lord  had  his  time  to 
scourge  and  chasten  me.  The  portion  of  some  is  to  have  their 
afflictions  by  drops,  now  one  drop  and  then  another;  but  the 
dregs  of  the  Cup,  the  Wine  of  astonishment:  like  a  sweeping 
rain  that  leaveth  no  food,  did  the  Lord  prepare  to  be  my  portion 
Affliction  I  wanted,  and  affliction  I  had,  full  measure  (I  thought) 
pressed  down  and  running  over;  yet  I  see,  when  God  calls  a  per 
son  to  any  thing,  and  through  never  so  many  difficulties,  yet  he 
is  fully  able  to  carry  them  through,  and  make  them  see,  and  say 
they  have  been  gainers  thereby.  And  I  hope  I  can  say  in  some 
measure,  as  David  did,  //  is  good  for  me  that  I  have  been  afflicted. 
The  Lord  hath  shewed  me  the  vanity  of  these  outward  things. 
That  they  are  the  Vanity  of  vanities,  and  vexation  of  spirit;  that 
they  are  but  a  shadow,  a  blast,  a  bubble,  and  things  of  no  con 
tinuance.  That  we  must  rely  on  God  himself,  and  our  whole 
dependence  must  be  upon  him.  If  trouble  from  smaller  matters 
began  to  arise  in  me,  I  have  something  at  hand  to  check  myself 
with,  and  say,  why  am  I  troubled?  It  was  but  the  other  day 
that  if  I  had  had  the  world,  I  would  have  given  it  for  my  freedom, 
or  to  have  been  a  Servant  to  a  Christian.  I  have  learned  to  look 
beyond  present  and  smaller  troubles,  and  to  be  quieted  under 
them,  as  Moses,  said,  Exod.  14.  13.  Stand  still  and  see  the  salva 
tion  of  the  Lord. 


INCREASE   MATHER 

[Increase  Mather  was  born  in  Dorchester,  Mass.,  in  1639.  His  father, 
Richard  Mather,  was  one  of  the  ministers  who  left  England  in  the  time  of 
Archbishop  Laud,  and  has  already  been  mentioned  as  one  of  the  authors  of 
the  "Bay  Psalm  Book."  Increase  was  graduated  from  Harvard,  and  after 
ward  studied  in  Dublin  and  preached  in  various  parts  of  Great  Britain.  Like 
his  father,  he  was  driven  out  for  nonconformity,  and  returned  to  America, 
where  he  at  length  became  pastor  of  the  North  Church,  Boston. 

Increase  Mather's  active  life,  which  extended  until  1723,  coincided  with 
a  troubled  period  in  the  history  of  New  England.  The  wars  with  the  Indians, 
which  began  about  1675,  were  followed  by  serious  difficulties  with  the  Eng 
lish  authorities  regarding  the  form  of  colonial  government.  At  the  same 
time  a  change  was  taking  place  in  the  Church.  The  power  of  the  ministers 
was  declining,  and  the  people  were  becoming,  as  Conservatives  like  the 
Mathers  believed,  hopelessly  lax  in  their  beliefs  and  practices.  In  this  time 
of  change,  Increase  Mather  was  a  leader  in  both  political  and  religious  move 
ments.  He  maintained  that  the  afflictions  of  the  colonies  were  a  divine  pun 
ishment  for  lack  of  religious  devotion,  and  his  "Brief  History  of  the  War 
with  the  Indians  in  New-England"  (1676),  and  "A  Relation  of  the  Troubles 
which  have  hapned  in  New-England  by  reason  of  the  Indians  there"  (1677) 
were  written  to  emphasize  this  lesson.  He  opposed  the  "  half-way  covenant " 
and  all  liberal  tendencies  in  the  church,  and  was  instrumental  in  the  calling 
of  the  "Reforming  Synod"  which  proposed  to  remove  God's  displeasure  at 
New  England  by  returning  to  a  stricter  and  purer  faith.  He  served  as  presi 
dent  of  Harvard  College  from  1685  to  1701,  when  the  Liberal  party  secured 
legislation  that  forced  him  to  resign.  Meanwhile  he  had  visited  England 
as  the  agent  of  the  colony,  and  had  attempted  to  have  the  old  charter  re 
stored.  Finding  this  impossible,  he  procured  a  new  charter,  which  was 
probably  as  liberal  as  could  have  been  secured,  but  which  was  unsatisfac 
tory  to  the  Radical  party  in  the  colony. 

Both  Increase  Mather  and  his  son  Cotton  incurred  something  of  the 
obloquy  which  is  sure  to  devolve  on  Conservatives  who  fight  for  a  hopeless 
cause.  He  has  been  charged,  in  particular,  with  responsibility  for  the  witch 
craft  persecutions.  It  is  true  that  he  seems  to  have  been  eagerly  credulous 
regarding  the  direct  workings  of  Satan,  as  is  shown  in  his  "Essay  for  the 
Recording  of  Illustrious  Providences"  (1684),  and  other  writings;  but  he 
had  little  direct  connection  with  the  affairs  at  Salem,  and  he  always  advised 
against  proceeding  on  insufficient  evidence. 

Increase  Mather  was  the  author  of  nearly  one  hundred  and  fifty  pub 
lished  works,  including  many  sermons,  and  some  pamphlets  on  the  political 

199 


200  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

situation  printed  anonymously.  His  style,  while  not  wholly  free  from  ped 
antry,  is  more  direct  and  simple  than  that  of  his  son.  Perhaps  his  most 
readable  work,  though  not  the  one  that  does  most  credit  to  his  judgment, 
is  the  ''Essay  for  the  Recording  of  Illustrious  Providences." 

The  selections  from  the  "Historical  Discourse  Concerning  the  Preva- 
lency  of  Prayer"  and  from  the  "History  of  the  War  with  the  Indians"  are 
from  the  editions  edited  by  Samuel  G.  Drake;  the  passages  from  "An 
Essay  for  the  Recording  of  Illustrious  Providences"  are  from  the  first  edition, 
Boston,  1684;  the  Letter  to  Governor  Dudley  is  from  the  Massachusetts 
Historical  Society  Collections.] 

THE  POWER   OF  PRAYER 

[From  "An  Historical  Discourse  Concerning  the  Prevalency  of  Prayer"] 

It  was  a  great  Word  (and  if  rightly  understood,  a  true  Word) 
which  Luther  spake  when  he  said,  Est  quaedam  precum  omni- 
potentia,  there  is  a  kind  of  Omnipotency  in  Prayer;  and  the 
Reason  is  obvious,  viz.  In  that  the  Almighty  doth  suffer  himself 
to  be  prevailed  upon  and  overcome  by  Prayer.  Had  not  Jacob 
in  this  respect  Power  with  God  ?  Yea  when  he  made  his  Suplica- 
tion,  he  had  Power,  and  prevailed  over  the  Angel,  even  that 
Angel  who  is  the  Lord  of  Hosts,  the  Lord  is  his  Memorial.  Where 
do  we  find  in  all  the  Books  of  God  a  more  wonderfull  Expression, 
then  that  of  the  Lord  to  praying  Moses,  Now  let  me  alone  ?  That 
ever  the  eternal  God  should  become  thus  a  Petitioner  to  a  poor 
mortal  Man !  Feriendi  licentiam  petit  a  Mose  qui  fecit  Mosen. 
Prayer  then  is  like  the  Sword  of  Saul,  or  the  Bow  of  Jonathan, 
which  never  returned  empty  from  the  Battle.  Prayer  is  stronger 
than  iron  Gates.  At  the  Prayers  of  the  Church  the  iron  Gates 
fly  open,  and  the  Apostles  Fetters  fall  off.  Sometimes  the  Prayers 
of  one  Man  that  hath  an  eminent  Interest  in  God,  are  a  Means 
to  preserve  a  whole  Town,  yea  a  whole  Land  from  Destruction, 
wel  might  the  Antient  say,  Homine  probo  orante  nihil  potentius. 
How  far  did  Abrahams  Prayers  prevail  for  Sodom?  Did  not 
Elijahs  Prayers  open  and  shut  the  Windows  of  Heaven?  Did 
they  not  bring  down  Showers  when  the  gasping  Earth  was  ready 
to  dy  for  Thirst  ?  When  a  fiery  Drought  had  like  to  have  devoured 
the  Land  of  Israel,  and  the  Prophet  Amos  prayed  and  cried  to 
the  Lord,  saying,  O  Lord  God,  Cease  I  beseech  thee,  by  whom  shall 


INCREASE  MATHER  2OI 

Jacob  arise?  for  he  is  small;  the  Lord  repented  for  this,  and  sqid 
this  shall  not  be. 

Wars,  when  justly  undertaken,  have  been  successful  through 
the  prevalency  of  Prayer. 

Moses  in  the  Mount  praying,  is  too  strong  for  all  the  Armies 
in  the  Valley  fighting.  When  the  Philistines  went  up  against  the 
Children  of  Israel,  Samuel  ceased  not  to  cry  to  the  Lord  for  Israel, 
and  the  Lord  thundered  with  a  great  thunder  that  Day  upon  the 
Philistines,  and  discomfited  them,  that  they  were  smitten  before 
Israel.  Jehoshaphat,  when  surrounded  by  a  Multitude  of  heathen 
Enemyes,  by  Prayer  overcame  them.  When  Zera  the  Ethiopian 
came  against  the  Lords  People  with  an  Host  of  a  thousand  thou 
sand  Men,  Asa  by  Prayer  and  Faith  overcame  them  all.  Hezekiah 
and  Isaiah  by  their  prayers  brought  an  Angel  down  from  Heaven, 
who  slew  an  hundred  and  fourscore  and  five  thousand  Assyrians, 
in  the  Host  of  Sennacherib  in  one  Night. 

And  besides  these  and  many  Scriptural  Examples  in  ecclesiasti 
cal  Story,  Instances  to  this  Purpose  are  frequently  observed. 
The  History  of  the  thundering  Legion  is  famously  known.  Thus 
it  was. 

The  Emperour  Marcus  Aurelius  going  to  war  against  the  Quads, 
Vandals,  Sarmats  and  Germans,  who  were  nine  hundred  seventy 
and  five  thousand  fighting  Men ;  The  Imperialists  were  so  cooped 
up  by  their  numerous  Enemies,  in  strait,  dry,  and  hot  Places, 
that  the  Souldiers  having  been  destitute  of  Water  for  five  Days 
together,  they  were  all  like  to  have  perished  for  thirs.t.  In  this 
extremity,  a  Legion  of  Christian  Souldiers  being  in  the  Army, 
withdrew  themselves  apart  from  the  Rest,  and  falling  prostrate 
on  the  Earth,  by  ardent  Prayers  prevailed  with  God,  that  he 
imediately  sent  a  most  plentiful  Rain,  whereby  the  Army  that 
otherwise  had  perished,  was  refreshed  and  dreadfull  Lightnings 
flashed  in  the  Faces  of  their  Enemies,  so  as  that  they  were  dis 
comfited  and  put  to  flight.  The  Effect  of  which  was,  that  the 
Persecution  which  before  that  the  Emperour  designed  against 
the  Christians,  was  diverted;  and  that  praying  Legion  did  after 
wards,  bear  the  Name  of  Kepwo/?oAos  the  Lightning  Legion. 

Constantine  the  Great,  being  to  join  the  Battle  with  the  Heathen 
Tyrant  Licinius,  singled  out  a  number  of  godly  Ministers  of  Christ, 


202  EARLY  AMERICAN   WRITERS 

and  with  them  betook  himself  to  earnest  Prayer  and  Supplication, 
after  which  God  gave  him  a  notable  and  glorious  Victory  over  his 
Enemies.  But  Licinius  himselfe  escaped  at  that  Time,  and 
raised  another  Army,  which  was  pursued  by  Constantine,  who 
before  he  would  engage  with  the  Enemy,  caused  a  Tent  to  be 
erected,  wherein  he  did  spend  some  Time  in  Fasting  and  Prayer, 
being  attended  with  a  Company  of  holy  praying  Men  round  about 
him,  after  which  marching  against  his  Enemies,  he  fought  them, 
and  obtained  a  more  glorious  Victory  than  the  former,  and  the 
Grand  Rebel  Licinius  was  then  taken  Prisoner. 

Theodosius  being  in  no  small  Danger  by  Reason  of  the  potent 
Army  of  Adversaryes  he  had  to  do  with,  in  his  Distress  cryed  unto 
Heaven  for  Help,  and  behold  !  the  Lord  sent  such  a  terrible  Tem 
pest,  as  the  like  was  not  known,  whereby  the  Darts  of  the  Enemy 
were  driven  back  upon  themselves,  to  their  own  Confusion,  which 
caused  Claudian  the  Poet,  (though  no  great  Friend  to  the  Christian 
Name)  to  say  concerning  Theodosius, 


O  nimium  dilecte  Deo  cui  militat 

Et  conjurati  veniunt  ad  Classica  Venti. 

It  is  storied  concerning  the  City  of  Nisibis  that  being  straitly 
besieged  by  Sapores  King  of  Persia,  the  distressed  Citizens  de 
sired  a  devout  and  holy  Man  amongst  them  (whose  Name  was 
James)  to  be  earnest  with  the  Lord  in  their  Behalf.  He  was  so: 
and  the  Effect  was,  God  sent  an  Army  of  Gnats  and  Flyes  among 
the  Persians,  which  so  vexed  and  tormented  them,  as  that  they 
were  forced  to  raise  the  Seige  and  depart. 

Amongst  the  Waldenses  sometimes  an  inconsiderable  Number 
have  prevailed  over  their  popish  Adversaryes.  At  one  Time 
five  hundred  of  these  poor  praying  Saints  overthrew  two  thousand 
and  five  hundred  of  their  Enemies  who  scoffed  at  them  because 
they  would  fall  upon  their  knees  and  pray  before  they  would  fight. 

In  the  Land  of  our  Father's  Sepulchres,  when  Oswald  (who 
succeded  his  Father  Ethelfride  in  the  Northern  Kingdom)  was 
assaulted  by  Cedwalla  and  Penda,  two  Heathen  Kings,  that  raised 
a  great  Army,  designing  the  Ruin  of  Oswald  and  his  People,  he 
humbly  and  earnestly  addressed  himself  to  the  Lord  of  Hosts, 
the  great  Giver  of  Victory,  entreating  him  to  shew  his  own  Power 


INCREASE  MATHER  203 

in  saving  and  protecting  his  People  from  the  Rage  of  heathen 
Adversaryes :  which,  joyning  battle  with  his  Enemyes,  albeit 
their  Army  was  far  greater  than  his,  he  obtained  a  wonderful 
Victory,  wherein  Cedwalla  himself  was  slain. 

When  England  was  invaded  by  the  Danes  under  the  Conduct 
of  their  King  Osrick,  who  encamped  at  Ashdon,  King  Ethdred 
betook  himself  to  Prayer;  and  marching  against  the  Danish  Army, 
put  them  to  flight,  and  slew  the  greatest  Part  of  them. 

Gustavus  Adolphus  the  King  of  Sweden,  no  sooner  landed  in 
his  Enemies  Terrjtoryes,  but  he  addressed  himself  to  Heaven 
for  Victory,  and  encouraged  his  Counsellors  and  Commanders 
by  saying  The  greater  the  Army  of  Prayers  is,  the  greater  and  more 
assured  shall  be  our  Victory.  Yea  it  was  his  Manner  when  the 
Armyes  were  set  in  Battle  array,  to  lift  up  his  Eyes  to  Heaven 
and  say,  Lord  prosper  the  Battle  of  this  Day,  according  as  thou 
seest  my  Heart  dost  aim  at  thy  Glory,  and  the  good  of  thy  Church. 
And  how  successful  did  God  make  that  excellent  Prince  to  be? 

But  what  need  we  go  far  to  find  Examples  confirming  the  Truth 
of  this  Assertion,  that  Prayer  is  of  Wonderfull  Prevelancy,  since 
our  own  Eyes  have  seen  it?  Xew  England  may  now  say,  if  the 
Lord  (even  the  Prayer  hearing  God)  had  not  been  on  our  Side 
when  Men  rose  up  against  us,  they  had  swallowed  us  up;  then 
the  proud  Waters  had  gone  over  our  Soul.  And  thus  hath  it  been 
more  than  once  or  twice,  especially  since  the  late  Insurrection 
and  Rebellion  of  the  Heathen  Nations  round  about  us.  We  can 
not  but  acknowledge,  and  Posterity  must  know,  that  we  were  in 
Appearance  a  gone  and  ruined  People,  and  had  been  so  ere  this 
Day,  if  the  Lord  had  not  been  a  God  that  heareth  Prayer. 

THE  BEGINNING   OF   KING  PHILIP'S   WAR 

[From  "Brief  History  of  the  War  with  the  Indians  in  New  England"] 

June  24.  (Midsummer-day)  was  appointed  and  attended  as 
a  day  of  solemn  Humiliation  throughout  that  Colony,  by  fasting 
and  praying,  to  intreat  the  Lord  to  give  success  to  the  present 
Expedition  respecting  the  Enemy.  At  the  conclusion  of  that  day 
of  Humiliation,  as  soon  as  ever  the  People  in  Swanzy  were  come 
from  the  place  where  they  had  been  praying  together,  the  Indians 


204  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

discharged  a  volley  of  shot,  whereby  they  killed  one  man,  and 
wounded  others.  Two  men  were  sent  to  call  a  Surgeon  for  the 
relief  of  the  wounded,  but  the  Indians  killed  them  by  the  way: 
And  in  another  part  of  the  Town  six  men  were  killed,  so  that  there 
were  Nine  Englishmen  murthered  this  day. 

Thus  did  the  War  begin,  this  being  the  first  English  blood 
which  was  spilt  by  the  Indians  in  an  Hostile  way.  The  Provi 
dence  of  God  is  deeply  to  be  observed,  that  the  Sword  should 
be  first  drawn  upon  a  day  of  Humiliation,  the  Lord  thereby  de 
claring  from  Heaven  that  he  expected  something  else  from  his 
People  besides  Fasting  and  Prayer. 

Plymouth  being  thus  suddenly  involved  in  trouble,  send  to  the 
other  united  Colonies  for  aid,  and  their  desires  were  with  all  readi 
ness  complied  with. 

Souldiers  marched  out  of  Boston  towards  Mount-hope,  June  26, 
and  continued  marching  that  night,  when  there  hapned  a  great 
Eclipse  of  the  Moon,  which  was  totally  darkned  above  an  hour. 
Only  it  must  be  remembred,  that  some  days  before  any  Souldiers 
went  out  of  Boston,  Commissioners  were  sent  to  treat  with  Philip, 
that  so  if  possible,  ingaging  in  a  war  might  be  prevented.  But 
when  the  Commissioners  came  near  to  Mount-hope,  they  found 
divers  Englishmen  on  the  ground,  weltering  in  their  own  blood, 
having  been  newly  murdered  by  the  Indians,  so  that  they  could 
not  proceed  farther.  Yea,  the  Indians  killed  a  man  of  this  Colony 
as  he  was  travelling  on  the  road  before  such  time  as  we  took  up 
arms :  In  which  respect  no  man  can  doubt  of  the  justness  of  our 
Cause,  since  the  Enemy  did  shed  the  blood  of  some  of  ours  who 
never  did  them  (our  Enemies  themselves  being  judges)  the  least 
wrong  before  we  did  at  all  offend  them,  or  attempt  any  act  of 
hostility  towards  them. 

June  2gth  was  a  day  of  publick  Humiliation  in  this  Colony, 
appointed  by  the  Council  in  respect  of  the  war  which  is  now  begun. 

This  morning  our  Army  would  have  ingaged  with  the  Enemy. 
The  Indians  shot  the  Pilot  who  was  directing  our  Souldiers  in 
their  way  to  Philips  Country,  and  wounded  several  of  our  Men, 
and  ran  into  Swamps,  rainy  weather  hindred  a  further  pursuit 
of  the  Enemy.  An  awful  Providence  happened  at  this  time: 
For  a  Souldier  (a  stout  man)  who  was  sent  from  Water-town, 


INCREASE  MATHER  205 

seeing  the  English  Guide  slain,  and  hearing  many  profane  oathe 
among  some  of  our  Souldiers  (namely  those  Privateers,  who  were 
also  Volunteers)  and  considering  the  unseasonableness  of  the 
weather  was  such,  as  that  nothing  could  be  done  against  the 
Enemy;  this  man  was  possessed  with  a  strong  conceit,  that  God 
was  against  the  English;  whereupon  he  immediately  ran  dis 
tracted,  and  so  was  returned  home  a  lamentable  Spectacle. 

In  the  beginning  of  July,  there  was  another  Skirmish  with  the 
Enemy,  wherein  several  of  the  Indians  were  killed,  amongst  whom 
were  Philips  chief  Captain,  and  one  of  his  Counsellors. 

Now  it  appears  that  Squaw-Sachem  of  Pocasset,  her  men  were 
conjoyned  with  the  Womponoags  (that  is  Philips  men)  in  this 
Rebellion. 

About  this  time  they  killed  several  English  at  Taunton,  and 
Burnt  divers  Houses  there.  Also  at  Sivanzy,  they  caused  about 
half  the  Town  to  be  consumed  with  merciless  Flames.  Likewise 
Middlebury  and  Dartmouth,  in  PHmouth  Colony,  did  they  burn 
with  Fire,  and  barbarously  murdered  both  men  and  women  in 
those  places,  stripping  the  slain,  whether  Men  or  Women,  and 
leaving  them  in  the  open  Field,  as  naked  as  in  the  day  wherein 
they  were  born.  Such  also  is  their  Inhumanity,  as  that  they 
flay  off  the  skin  from  their  Faces  and  Heads  of  those  they  get 
into  their  hands,  and  go  away  with  the  hairy  Scalps  of  their 
Enemies. 

July  19.  Our  Army  pursued  Philip,  who  fled  into  a  dismal 
Swamp  for  refuge :  The  English  Souldiers  followed  him,  and  killed 
many  of  his  men,  also  about  fifteen  of  the  English  were  then  slain. 
The  Swamp  was  so  Boggy,  and  thick  of  Bushes,  as  that  it  was 
judged  to  proceed  further  therein  would  be  but  to  throw  away 
Mens  lives.  It  could  not  there  be  descerned  who  were  English, 
and  who  the  Indians.  Our  Men  when  in  that  hideous  place  if 
they  did  but  see  a  Bush  stir  would  fire  presantly,  whereby  'tis 
verily  feared  they  did  sometimes  unhappily  shoot  English  Men 
instead  of  Indians.  Wherefore  a  Retreat  was  sounded,  and  night 
coming  on,  the  Army  withdrew  from  that  place.  This  was  be 
cause  the  desperate  Distress  which  the  Enemy  was  in  was  unknown 
to  us,  for  the  Indians  have  since  said,  that  if  the  English  had 
continued  at  the  Swamp  all  night,  nay,  if  they  had  but  followed 


206  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

them  but  one  half  hour  longer,  Philip  had  come  and  yielded  up 
himself.  But  God  saw  we  were  not  yet  fit  for  Deliverance,  nor 
could  Health  be  restored  unto  us  except  a  great  deal  more  Blood 
be  first  taken  from  us :  and  other  places  as  well  as  Plimouth  stood 
in  need  of  such  a  Course  to  be  taken  with  them.  It  might  ra 
tionally  be  conjectured,  that  the  unsuccessfulness  of  this  Expedi 
tion  against  Philip  would  embolden  the  Heathen  in  other  parts 
to  do  as  he  had  done,  and  so  it  came  to  pass.  For  July  14,  the 
Nipnep  (or  Nipmuck)  Indians  began  their  mischief  at  a  Town 
called  Mendam  (had  we  mended  our  ways  as  we  should  have  done, 
this  Misery  might  have  been  prevented)  where  they  committed 
Barbarous  Murders.  This  day  deserves  to  have  a  Remark  set 
upon  it,  considering  that  Blood  was  never  shed  in  Massachusetts 
Colony  in  a  way  of  Hostility  before  this  day.  Moreover  the 
Providence  of  God  herein  is  the  more  awful  and  tremendous, 
in  that  this  very  day  the  Church  in  Dorchester  was  before  the  Lord, 
humbling  themselves  by  Fasting  and  Prayer,  on  account  of  the 
day  of  trouble  now  begun  amongst  us. 

The  news  of  this  Blood-shed  came  to  us  at  Boston  the  next  day 
in  Lecture  time,  in  the  midst  of  the  Sermon,  the  Scripture  then 
improved  being  that  Isai.  42,  24.  Who  gave  Jacob  to  the  spoil 
and  Israel  to  the  robbers?  did  not  the  Lord,  he  against  whom  ye 
have  sinned  ? 

A  BEWITCHED  HOUSE 

[From  "An  Essay  for  the  Recording  of  Illustrious  Providences"] 

As  there  have  been  several  Persons  vexed  with  evil  Spirits, 
so  divers  Houses  have  been  wofully  Haunted  by  them.  In  the 
Year  1679,  the  House  of  William  Morse  in  Newberry  in  New- 
England,  was  strangely  disquieted  by  a  Damon.  After  those 
troubles  began,  he  did  by  the  Advice  of  Friends  write  down  the 
particulars  of  those  unusual  Accidents.  And  the  Account  which 
he  giveth  thereof  is  as  followeth; 

On  December  3.  In  the  night  time,  he  and  his  Wife  heard  a 
noise  upon  the  roof  of  their  House,  as  if  Sticks  and  Stones  had 
been  thrown  against  it  with  great  violence;  whereupon  he  rose 
out  of  his  Bed,  but  could  see  nothing.  Locking  the  Doors  fast, 


INCREASE  MATHER  207 

he  returned  to  Bed  again.  About  midnight  they  heard  an  Hog 
making  a  great  noise  in  the  House,  so  that  the  Man  rose  again, 
and  found  a  great  Hog  in  the  House,  the  door  being  shut,  but 
upon  the  opening  of  the  door  it  ran  out. 

On  December  8.  in  the  Morning,  there  were  five  great  Stones 
and  Bricks  by  an  invisible  hand  thrown  in  at  the  west  end  of 
the  house  while  the  Mans  Wife  was  making  the  Bed,  the  Bed 
stead  was  lifted  up  from  the  floor,  and  the  Bedstaff  flung  out  of 
the  Window,  and  a  Cat  was  hurled  at  her ;  a  long  staff  danced  up 
and  down  in  the  Chimney ;  a  burnt  Brick,  and  a  piece  of  a  weather 
board  were  thrown  in  at  the  Window:  The  Man  at  his  going  to 
Bed  put  out  his  Lamp,  but  in  the  Morning  found  that  the  Saveall 
of  it  was  taken  away,  and  yet  it  was  unaccountably  brought  into 
its  former  place.  On  the  same  day,  the  long  Staff  but  now  spoken 
of,  was  hang'd  up  by  a  line,  and  swung  to  and  fro,  the  Mans  Wife 
laid  it  in  the  fire,  but  she  could  not  hold  it  there,  inasmuch  as  it 
would  forcibly  fly  out;  yet  after  much  ado  with  joynt  strength 
they  made  it  to  burn.  A  shingle  flew  from  the  Window,  though 
no  body  near  it,  many  sticks  came  in  at  the  same  place,  only  one 
of  these  was  so  scragged  that  it  could  enter  the  hole  but  a  little 
way,  whereupon  the  Man  pusht  it  out,  a  great  Rail  likewise  was 
thrust  in  at  the  Window,  so  as  to  break  the  Glass. 

At  another  time  an  Iron  Crook  that  was  hanged  on  a  Nail, 
violently  flew  up  and  down,  also  a  Chair  flew  about,  and  at  last 
lighted  on  the  Table  where  Victuals  stood  ready  for  them  to  eat, 
and  was  likely  to  spoil  all,  only  by  a  nimble  catching  they  saved 
some  of  their  Meal  with  the  loss  of  the  rest,  and  the  overturning 
of  their  Table. 

People  were  sometimes  Barricado'd  out  of  doors,  when  as  yet 
there  was  no  body  to  do  it :  and  a  Chest  was  removed  from  place 
to  place,  no  hand  touching  it.  Their  Keys  being  tied  together, 
one  was  taken  from  the  rest,  &  the  remaining  two  would  fly  about 
making  a  loud  noise  by  knocking  against  each  other.  But  the 
greatest  part  of  this  Deinls  feats  were  his  mischievous  ones, 
wherein  indeed  he  was  sometimes  Antick  enough  too,  and  therein 
the  chief  sufferers  were,  the  Man  and  his  Wife,  and  his  Grand-Son. 
The  Man  especially  had  his  share  in  these  Diabolical  Molesta 
tions.  For  one  while  they  could  not  eat  their  Suppers  quietly, 


208  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

but  had  the  Ashes  on  the  Hearth  before  their  eyes  thrown  into 
their  Victuals ;  yea,  and  upon  their  heads  and  Clothes,  insomuch 
that  they  were  forced  up  into  their  Chamber,  and  yet  they  had  no 
rest  there;  for  one  of  the  Man's  Shoes  being  left  below,  'twas 
filled  with  Ashes  and  Coals,  and  thrown  up  after  them.  Their 
Light  was  beaten  out,  and  they  being  laid  in  their  Bed  with  their 
little  Boy  between  them,  a  great  stone  (from  the  Floor  of  the  Loft) 
weighing  above  three  pounds  was  thrown  upon  the  mans  stomach, 
and  he  turning  it  down  upon  the  floor,  it  was  once  more  thrown 
upon,  him.  A  Box,  and  a  Board  were  likewise  thrown  upon  them 
all.  And  a  Bag  of  Hops  was  taken  out  of  their  Chest,  wherewith 
they  were  beaten,  till  some  of  the  Hops  were  scattered  on  the  floor, 
where  the  Bag  was  then  laid,  and  left. 

In  another  Evening,  when  they  sat  by  the  fire,  the  Ashes  were 
whirled  at  them,  that  they  could  neither  eat  their  Meat,  nor  en 
dure  the  House.  A  Peel  struck  the  Man  in  the  face.  An  Apron 
hanging  by  the  fire,  was  flung  upon  it,  and  singed  before  they 
could  snatch  it  off.  The  Man  being  at  Prayer  with  his  Family, 
a  Beesom  gave  him  a  blow  on  his  head  behind,  and  fell  down 
before  his  face. 

On  another  day,  when  they  were  Winnowing  of  Barley,  some 
hard  dirt  was  thrown  in,  hitting  the  Man  on  the  Head,  and  both 
the  Man  and  his  Wife  on  the  back;  and  when  they  had  made 
themselves  clean,  they  essayed  to  fill  their  half  Bushel  but  the 
foul  Corn  was  in  spite  of  them  often  cast  in  amongst  the  clean, 
and  the  Man  being  divers  times  thus  abused  was  forced  to  give 
over  what  he  was  about. 

On  January  23  (in  particular)  the  Man  had  an  iron  Pin  twice 
thrown  at  him,  and  his  Inkhorn  was  taken  away  from  him  while 
he  was  writing,  and  when  by  all  his  seeking  it  he  could  not  find  it, 
at  last  he  saw  it  drop  out  of  the  Air,  down  by  the  fire :  a  piece 
of  Leather  was  twice  thrown  at  him;  and  a  shoe  was  laid  upon 
his  shoulder,  which  he  catching  at,  was  suddenly  rapt  from  him. 
An  handful  of  Ashes  was  thrown  at  his  face,  and  upon  his  clothes: 
and  the  shoe  was  then  clapt  upon  his  head,  and  upon  it  he  clapt 
his  hand,  holding  it  so  fast,  that  somewhat  unseen  pulled  him  with 
it  backward  on  the  floor. 


INCREASE  MATHER  209 

THE  PROBATION  BY  COLD  WATER 

[From  "An  Essay  for  the  Recording  of  Illustrious  Providences"] 

There  is  another  Case  of  Conscience  which  may  here  be  en 
quired  into,  viz.  Whether  it  be  lawful  to  bind  persons  suspected 
for  Witches,  and  so  cast  them  into  the  Water,  in  order  to  making  a 
discovery  of  their  innocency  or  guiltiness;  so  as  that  if  they  keep 
above  the  Water,  they  shall  be  deemed  as  confederate  with  the  Devil, 
but  if  they  sink  they  are  to  be  acquitted  from  the  crime  of  Witchcraft. 
As  for  this  way  of  purgation  it  cannot  be  denied  but  that  some 
learned  men  have  indulged  it.  King  JAMES  approveth  of  it,  in 
his  Discourse  of  Witch-craft  B.  3  Chap.  6.  supposing  that  the 
water  refuseth  to  receive  Witches  into  its  Bosom,  because  they 
have  perfidiously  violated  their  Covenant  with  God,  confirmed  by 
Water  in  Baptism.  Kornmannus  and  Scribonius  do  upon  the  same 
ground  Justine  this  way  of  tryal.  But  a  worthy  Casuist  of  our  own 
giveth  a  judicious  reply  to  this  supposal,  viz.  that  all  Water  is 
not  the  Water  of  Baptism,  but  that  only  which  is  used  in  the  very 
act  of  Baptism.  Moreover,  according  to  this  notion  the  Proba 
would  serve  only  for  such  persons  as  have  been  Baptized.  Wierus 
and  Bodinus  have  written  against  this  Experiment.  So  hath 
Hemmingius;  who  saith,  that  is  both  superstitious  and  ridiculous. 
Likewise,  that  learned  Physitian  John  Heurnius  has  published 
a  Treatise,  which  he  calls,  Responsum  ad  supremam  curiam  Hol- 
landm,  nullum  esse  aqua  innatationem  lamiarum  indicium.  That 
Book  I  have  not  seen,  but  I  find  it  mentioned  in  Meursius  his 
AtheruB  Batav(E.  Amongst  English  Authors,  Dr.  Cott  hath  en 
deavoured  to  shew  the  unlawfulness  of  using  such  a  practice. 
Also  Mr.  Perkins  is  so  far  from  approving  of  this  Probation  by 
cold  water,  as  that  he  rather  inclines  to  think  that  the  persons 
who  put  it  in  practice  are  themselves  after  a  sort  practisers  of 
Witch-craft.  That  most  Learned,  Judicious,  and  Holy  Man, 
Gisbertus  Vcetius  in  his  so  ementioned  Exercitation  de  Magia, 
P.  573.  endeavours  to  evince  that  the  custom  of  trying  Witches 
by  casting  them  into  the  Water  is  unlawful,  a  Tempting  of  God, 
and  indirect  Magic.  And  that  it  is  utterly  unlawful,  I  am  by  the 
following  Reasons,  convinced: 


210  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

1.  This  practice  has  no  Foundation  in  nature,  nor  in  Scripture. 
If  the  Water  will  bear  none  but  Witches,  this  must  need  proceed 
either  from  some  natural  or  some  supernatural  cause.     No  natural 
cause  is  or  can  be  assigned  why  the  bodies  of  such  persons  should 
swim  rather  than  of  any  other.     The  Bodies  of  Witches  have  not 
lost  their  natural  Properties,  they  have  weight  in  them  as  well  as 
others.     Moral  changes  and  viceousness  of  mind,  make  no  altera 
tion  as  to  these  natural  proprieties  which  are  inseparable  from 
the  body.     Whereas  some  pretend  that  the  Bodies  of  Witches  are 
possessed  with  the  Devil,  and  on  that  account  are  uncapable  of 
sinking  under  the  water;  Maldems  his  reply  is  rational,  viz.  that 
the  Allegation  has  no  solidity  in  it,  witness  the  Gadarens  Hoggs, 
which  were  no  sooner  possessed  with  the  Devil  but  they  ran  into 
the  Water,  and  there  perished.     But  if  the  experiment  be  super 
natural,  it  must  either  be  Divine  or  Diabolical.     It  is  not  divine ; 
for  the  Scripture  does  no  where  appoint  any  such  course  to  be 
taken  to  find  out  whether  persons  are  in  league  writh  the  Devil  or 
no.     It  remains  then  that  the  experiment  is  Diabolical.     If  it  be 
said,  that  the  Devil  has  made  a  compact  with  Wizards,  that  they 
shall  not  be  drowned,  and  by  that  means  that  Covenant  is  dis 
covered;    the  Reply  is,  we  may  not  in  the  least  build  upon  the 
Devils  word.     By  this  Objection  the  matter  is  ultimately  resolved 
into  a  Diabolical  Faith.     And  shall  that  cast  the  scale,  when  the 
lives  of  men  are  concerned  ?     Suppose  the  Devil  saith  these  persons 
are  Witches,  must  the  Judge  therefore  condemn  them? 

2.  Experience  hath  proved  this  to  be  a  fallacious  way  of  try 
ing  Witches,  therefore  it  ought  not  to  be  practised.     Thereby 
guilty  persons  may  happen  to  be  acquitted,  and  the  innocent  to  be 
condemned.     The  Devil  may  have  power  to  cause  supernatation 
on  the  water  in  a  person  that  never  made  any  compact  with  him. 
And  many  times  known  and  convicted  Wizards  have  sunk  under 
the  water  when  thrown  thereon.     In  the  Bohemian  History  men 
tion  is  made  of  several  Witches,  who  being  tried  by  cold  water 
were  as  much  subject  to  submersion  as  any  other  persons.     Delrio 
reports  the  like  of  another  Witch.     And  Godelmannus  speaks  of 
six  Witches  in  whom  this  way  of  trial  failed.     Malderus  saith  it 
has  been  known  that  the  very  same  persons  being  often  brought 
to  this  probation  by  Water,  did  at  one  time  swim  and  another 


INCREASE  MATHER  211 

time  sink;  and  this  difference  has  sometimes  hapned  according 
to  the  diUerent  persons  making  the  experiment  upon  them;  in 
which  respect  one  might  with  greater  reason  conclude  that  the 
persons  who  used  the  experiment  were  Witches,  then  that  the 
persons  tried  were  so. 

3.  This  way  of  purgation  is  to  be  accounted  of,  like  other 
provocations  or  appeals  to  the  Judgement  of  God,  invented  by 
men:    such  as  Camp-fight,  Explorations  by  hot  water,  &c.     In 
former  times  it  hath  been  customary  (and  I  suppose  tis  so  still 
among   the   Norwegians)  that  the  suspected  party  was  to  put 
his  hand  into  scalding  water,  and  if  he  received  no  hurt  thereby 
then  he  was  reputed  innocent ;  but  if  otherwise,  judged  as  guilty. 
Also,  the  trial  by  fire  Ordeal  has  been  used  in  our  Nation  in  times 
of  Darkness.     Thus  Emma  the  Mother  of   King  Edward  the 
Confessor,  was  led  barefoot  and  blindfold  over  certain  hot  irons, 
and  not  hapning  to  touch  any  of  them,  was  judged  innocent  of 
the  crime  wrhich  some  suspected  her  as  guilty  of.     And  Kiinegund 
Wife  to  the  Emperour  Henry  II.  being  accused  of  Adultery,  to 
clear  her  self,  did  in  a  great  and  honourable  Assembly  take  up 
seven  glowing  irons  one  after  onother  with  her  bare  hand,  and 
had  no  harm  thereby.     These  bloody  kind  of  Experiments  are 
now  generally  banished  out  of  the  World.     It  is  pity  the  Ordeal 
by  cold  water  is  not  exploded  with  the  other. 

4.  This  vulgar  probation  (as  it  useth  to  be  called)  was  first 
taken  up  in  times  of  Superstition,  being  (as  before  wras  hinted  of 
other  Magical  Impostures)  propagated  from  Pagans  to  Papists, 
who  would  (as  may  be  gathered  from  Bernards  66  Serm.  in  Can- 
tica]  sometimes  bring  those  that  were  under  suspicion  for  Heresie 
unto  their  Purgation  in  this  way.     We  know  that  our  Ancestors, 
the  old  Pagan  Saxons  had  amongst  them  four  sorts  of  Ordeal 
(i.e.  Trial  or  Judgement  as  the  Saxon  word  signifies)  wrhereby 
when  sufficient  proof  was  wanting,  they  sought  (according  as  the 
Prince  of  darkness  had  instructed  them)  to  find  out  the  truth 
concerning  suspected  persons,  one  of  which  Ordeals  was  this, 
the  persons  surmised  to  be  guilty,  having  Cords  tied  under  their 
Arms,  were  thrown  with  it  into  some  River,  to  see  whether  they 
would  sink  or  swim.     So  that  this  Probation  was  not  originally 
confined  to  Witches,  but  others  supposed  to  be  Criminals  were 


212  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

thus  to  be  tried:  but  in  some  Countries  they  thought  meet  thus 
to  examine  none  but  those  who  have  been  suspected  for  familiarity 
with  the  Devil.  That  this  custom  was  in  its  first  rise  supersti 
tious  is  evident  from  the  Ceremonies  of  old  used  about  it.  For 
the  Proba  is  not  canonical,  except  the  person  be  cast  into  the 
Water  with  his  right  hand  tied  to  his  left  foot.  Also,  by  the 
Principle  which  some  approvers  of  this  Experiment  alledge  to 
confirm  their  fansies;  their  Principle  is,  Nihil  quod  per  Necro- 
mantian  Jit,  potest  in  aqua  fallere  aspectum  intuentium.  Hence 
William  of  Malmsbury,  Lib.  2.  P.  67.  tells  a  fabulous  Story 
(though  he  relates  it  not  as  such)  of  a  Traveller  in  Italy  that 
was  by  a  Witch  transformed  into  an  Asse,  but  retaining  his 
humane  understanding  would  do  such  feats  of  activity,  as  one  that 
had  no  more  wit  than  an  Asse  could  not  do ;  so  that  he  was  sold 
for  a  great  price ;  but  breaking  his  Halter  he  ran  into  the  Water, 
and  thence  was  instantly  unbewitched,  and  turned  into  a  Man 
again.  This  is  as  true  as  Lucian's  Relation  about  his  own  being 
by  Witch-craft  transformed  into  an  Asse;  and  I  suppose  both 
are  as  true  as  that  cold  water  will  discover  who  are  Witches.  It 
is  to  be  lamented,  that  Protestants  should  in  these  days  of  light, 
either  practise  or  plead  for  so  Superstitious  an  Invention,  since 
Papists  themselves  have  of  later  times  been  ashamed  of  it.  Ver- 
stegan  in  his  Antiquities,  Lib.  3,  P.  53.  speaking  of  the  trials  by 
Ordeal,  and  of  this  by  cold  water  in  particular,  has  these  words; 
These  aforesaid  kinds  of  Ordeals,  the  Saxons  long  after  their 
Christianity  continued:  but  seeing  they  had  their  beginnings  in 
Paganism  and  were  not  thought  Jit  to  be  continued  amongst  Chris 
tians ;  at  the  last  by  a  Decree  of  Pope  Stephen  II.  they  were  abolished. 
Thus  he.  Yea,  this  kind  of  trial  by  Water,  was  put  down  in 
Paris  A.  D.  1594.  by  the  supream  Court  there.  Some  learned 
Papists  have  ingenuously  acknowledged  that  such  Probations  are 
Superstitious.  It  is  confessed  that  they  are  so,  by  Tyrceus,  Bins- 
feldius,  Delrio,  and  by  Malderus  de  magia,  Tract.  10.  Cap.  8. 
Dub.  ii.  who  saith,  that  they  who  shall  practise  this  Superstition, 
and  pass  a  judgement  of  Death  upon  any  persons  on  this  account, 
will  (without  repentance)  be  found  guilty  of  Murder  before  God. 
It  was  in  my  thoughts  to  have  handled  some  other  Cases  of  the 
like  nature  with  these  insisted  on:  but  upon  further  considera- 


INCREASE  MATHER  213 

tion,  I  suppose  it  less  needful,  the  practises  which  have  given 
occasion  for  them  being  so  grosly  Superstitious,  as  that  they  are 
ashamed  to  show  their  heads  openly.  The  Chaldcsans  and  other 
Magicians  amongst  the  Heathen  Nations  of  old,  practised  a  sort 
of  Divination  by  Sieves  (which  kind  of  Magic  is  called  Coscino- 
mantid).  The  like  Superstition  has  been  frequent  in  Popish 
Countries,  where  they  have  been  wont  to  utter  some  words  of 
Scripture,  and  the  Names  of  certain  Saints  over  a  Sieve,  that  so 
they  might  by  the  motion  thereof,  know  where  something  stollen 
or  lost  was  to  be  found.  Some  also  ha.ve  believed  that  if  they 
should  cast  Lead  into  the  Water,  then  Saturn  would  discover  to 
them  the  thing  they  enquired  after.  It  is  not  Saturn  but  Satan 
that  maketh  the  discovery,  when  any  thing  is  in  such  a  way  re 
vealed.  And  of  this  sort  is  the  foolish  Sorcery  of  those  Women 
that  put  the  white  of  an  Egg  into  a  Glass  of  Water,  that  so  they 
may  be  able  to  divine  of  what  Occupation  their  future  Husbands 
shall  be.  It  were  much  better  to  remain  ignorant  than  thus  to 
consult  with  the  Devil.  These  kind  of  practices  appear  at  first 
blush  to  be  Diabolical;  so  that  I  shall  not  multiply  Words  in 
evincing  the  evil  of  them.  It  is  noted  that  the  Children  of  Israel 
did  secretly  those  things  that  are  not  right  against  the  Lord  their 
God,  2  King.  17.  9.  I  am  told  that  there  are  some  who  do  secretly 
practice  such  Abominations  as  these  last  mentioned,  unto  whom 
the  Lord  in  mercy  give  deep  and  unfeigned  Repentance  and 
pardon  for  their  grevious  Sin. 

INCREASE  MATHER  TO   GOVERNOR  DUDLEY 

Sir, 

That  I  have  had  a  singular  respect  for  you,  the  Lord  knows; 
but  that  since  your  arrival  to  the  government,  my  charitable 
expectations  have  been  greatly  disappointed,  I  may  not  deny. 
Without  any  further  preface  or  compliments,  I  think  it  my  duty 
freely  and  faithfully  to  let  you  understand  what  my  sad  fears 
concerning  you  are. 

i  st.  I  am  afraid  you  cannot  clear  yourself  from  the  guilt  of 
bribery  and  unrighteousness:  For  you  to  declare  to  Mr.  New 
ton,  that  he  should  not  do  what  his  office  as  judge  in  the  ad- 


214  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

miralty  obliged  him  unto,  unless  he  would  give  you  an  hundred 
pounds,  was  surely  a  sin  of  that  nature.  And  for  you  not  to 
consent  that  some,  whose  titles  to  their  land  the  General  Assem 
bly  had  confirmed,  should  enjoy  their  right,  except  they  would 
give  you  a  sum  of  money,  is  unrighteousness.  To  deny  men  their 
right,  except  they  will  by  some  gift  purchase  it,  is  certainly  the 
sin  of  bribery,  let  who  will  be  guilty  of  it.  These  and  other  things 
Mr.  Newton  and  Mr.  Partridge  have  given  their  affidavits  of; 
and  I  hear  that  many  things  of  this  nature  will  shortly  be  dis 
covered;  There  is  a  scripture  that  makes  me  think  it  will  be  so. 
Numb,  xxxii.  23. 

2d.  I  am  afraid  that  you  have  not  been  true  to  the  interest 
of  your  country,  as  God  (considering  his  marvellous  dispensa 
tions  towards  you)  and  his  people  have  expected  from  you.  Sir 
H.  Ashurst  writes  to  me,  that  it  would  fill  a  quire  of  paper  for 
him  to  give  a  full  account  of  your  contrivances  to  ruin  your  coun 
try,  both  this  and  the  neighbour  colony.  Your  son  Paul's  letter, 
dated  January  12,  1703-4,  to  W.  Wharton,  seems  to  those  that 
have  read  it,  to  be  nothing  short  of  a  demonstration,  that  both  of 
you  have  been  contriving  to  destroy  the  charter  privileges  of  the 
province;  and  to  obtain  a  commission  for  a  court  of  chancery, 
alias,  a  court  of  bribery.  A  gentleman  in  London  gave  ten 
pounds  for  that  letter,  that  so  his  friends  in  New  England  might 
see  what  was  plotting  against  them. 

3d.  I  am  afraid  that  you  cannot  clear  yourself  from  the  guilt 
of  much  hypocrisy  and  falseness  in  the  affair  of  the  college.  In 
1686,  when  you  accepted  of  an  illegal  arbitrary  commission  from 
the  late  K.  James,  you  said,  that  the  cow  was  dead,  and  therefore 
the  calf  in  her  belly:  meaning  the  charter  of  the  college  and 
colony.  You  said  (and  truly  enough)  that  it  was  not  in  the 
power  of  that  government  to  constitute  a  corporation,  it  being 
contrary  to  a  maxim  in  law,  for  a  corporation  to  make  a  corpora 
tion.  And  all  writers  who  handle  the  subject,  say,  that  a  college 
cannot  be  erected  without  sovereign  authority.  But  how  much 
have  you  of  late,  to  serve  a  design,  said  and  done  contrary  to  your 
former  assertions !  What  an  happiness  would  it  have  been  to  the 
country  and  a  glory  to  the  college,  to  have  had  what  was  by  the 
General  Assembly  in  my  Lord  Bellamont's  time,  sent  to  and 


INCREASE  MATHER  215 

confirmed  by  royal  authority.  It  is  your  fault,  Sir,  that  it  has 
not  been  done.  For  both  Mr.  Blathwait  and  Mr.  Phips  wrote, 
that  if  you  desired  it,  the  thing  would  be  immediately  dispatched. 
You  promised  me,  you  would  endeavour  it:  yet  some  of  the 
representatives  told  me  at  the  same  time,  that  you  promised 
them  the  contrary.  And  I  have  been  informed,  that  you  have 
discouraged  the  matter  from  proceeding  by  letters  home.  Alas ! 
Sir,  your  friends  are  not  faithful  as  they  ought  to  be.  Some 
whom  you  have  promoted  will  backbite  you,  and  say  you  are  the 
falsest  man  in  the  world.  But  which  of  them  have  attended  the 
divine  precept?  Lev.  xix.  17. 

4th.  I  am  afraid  that  the  guilt  of  innocent  blood  is  still  crying 
in  the  ears  of  the  Lord  against  you.  I  mean  the  blood  of  Leister 
and  Milburn.  My  Lord  Bellamont  said  to  me,  that  he  was 
one  of  the  committee  of  Parliament  who  examined  the  matter; 
and  that  those  men  were  not  only  murdered,  but  barbarously 
murdered.  However,  the  murdered  men  have  been  cleared  by 
the  King,  Lords,  and  Commons.  It  is  out  of  my  province  to  be 
a  judge  in  things  of  this  nature.  Nevertheless,  considering  what 
the  proper  judges,  who  have  had  an  impartial  hearing  of  the 
case,  have  said,  and  what  the  gentleman  who  drew  up  a  bill  for 
taking  off  the  attainder  from  those  poor  men,  have  written  to  me 
about  it,  I  think  you  ought,  for  your  family's  sake,  as  well  as 
your  own,  to  lay  that  matter  to  heart,  and  consider  whether  you 
ought  not  to  pray  as  Psalms,  li.  14. 

5th.  I  am  afraid  that  the  Lord  is  offended  with  you,  in  that 
you  ordinarily  forsake  the  worship  of  God  in  the  holy  church  to 
which  you  are  related,  in  the  afternoon  on  the  Lord's  day,  and 
after  the  publick  exercise,  spend  the  whole  time  with  some  per 
sons  reputed  very  ungodly  men.  I  am  sure  your  father  did  not 
so.  Can  you  sanctify  the  Sabbath  in  a  conversation  with  such 
men  ?  Would  you  choose  to  be  with  them  or  such  as  they  are  in 
another  world,  unto  which  you  are  hastening?  2  Chron.  xix.  2. 
I  had  like  to  have  said,  my  heart  mourns  for  you,  because  I 
believe  greater  troubles  are  very  near  unto  you,  than  any  that 
have  befallen  you  from  your  youth  unto  this  day;  but  I  forbear, 
and  may  not  at  present  acquaint  you  with. 

But,  Sir,  there  are  at  present  two  reasons  which  induced  me 


2l6  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

to  discharge  my  conscience  in  laying  before  you  my  fears.  One 
is,  in  that  you  have  sometimes  said,  that  if  ever  you  had  a  spiritual 
father,  I  was  the  man.  And  there  was  a  time  when  I  encouraged 
the  church,  with  whom  I  have  been  labouring  in  the  work  of  the 
Lord  these  forty-six  years  and  more,  to  call  you  to  be  my  assistant 
in  the  ministry.  The  other  is,  that  a  letter  thought  to  have  been 
written  by  me,  induced  the  late  K.  William  to  give  you  a  com 
mission  for  the  government  here.  Sir  H.  Ashurst,  in  a  letter 
dated  the  25th  of  July  last,  says,  that  the  day  before  a  Right  Hon 
ourable  person,  one  of  her  Majesty's  Privy  Council,  assured 
him,  that  it  was  a  letter  of  my  son's  which  you  read  to  the  King, 
that  inclined  him  to  give  you  a  commission,  and  that  the  King 
thought  the  letter  had  been  mine. 

How  glad  should  I  be,  if  I  could  receive  satisfaction  that  my 
fears  of  your  being  faulty,  in  the  matters  I  have  faithfully  men 
tioned  to  you,  are  groundless;  but  if  otherwise  considering  such 
scriptures  as  these,  Isai.  Iviii.  i.  Jer.  xxiii.  28.  Math.  xiv.  4,  5. 
i  Tim.  v.  21.  I  am  under  pressures  of  conscience  to  bear  a  pub- 
lick  testimony  without  respect  of  persons;  and  I  shall  rejoice  if 
it  may  be  my  dying  testimony.  I  am  now  aged,  expecting  and 
longing  for  my  departure  out  of  the  world  every  day.  I  trust  in 
Christ  that  when  I  am  gone,  I  shall  obtain  a  good  report  of  my 
having  been  faithful  before  him.  To  his  mercy  I  commend  you, 
and  remain  in  him, 

Yours  to  serve, 

I.  MATHER. 

Boston,  January  20,  1707-8. 
To  the  Governour. 


COTTON    MATHER 

[Cotton  Mather,  the  son  of  Increase,  and  the  grandson,  on  his  mother's 
side,  of  John  Cotton,  was  born  in  1663,  graduated  at  Harvard  in  1678,  and 
died  in  1728.  His  active  life  was,  therefore,  largely  contemporaneous  with 
that  of  his  father,  with  whom  he  was  associated  in  the  pastorate  of  the  North 
Church  after  1685.  Here  the  two  men  worked  side  by  side  as  leaders  of  the 
movement  to  retain  the  old  beliefs,  and  the  old  prerogatives  of  the  ministers. 
Their  connection  with  the  witchcraft  excitement,  perhaps  the  best-known 
episode  in  their  lives,  shows  how  seriously  they  took  to  heart  the  backsliding 
of  New  England,  and  how  ready  they  were  to  see  in  any  occurrence  a  judg 
ment  of  God  on  the  apostasy  of  his  followers.  Unlike  Increase  Mather, 
Cotton  never  travelled  out  of  New  England;  and  he  seems  to  have  differed 
from  his  father  in  being  more  learned,  more  self-centred,  more  violent  in  his 
prejudices,  and  less  urbane.  A  comparison  between  the  extract  from  his 
letter  to  Governor  Dudley  and  Increase  Mather's  letter  on  the  same  occasion 
will  show  the  difference  in  the  literary  styles  of  the  two  men,  and  throw  some 
interesting  side-lights  on  their  respective  characters. 

Cotton  Mather  was  a  man  not  only  of  great  learning,  but  of  great  indus 
try,  and  the  amount  of  his  writings  was  prodigious.  The  catalogue  of  his 
publications  appended  to  his  life  by  Samuel  Mather  contains  three  hundred 
and  eighty-two  titles,  and  it  is  known  that  he  left  still  other  printed  works, 
besides  many  in  manuscript.  His  publications  range  in  size  from  sermons, 
which  are  of  course  most  numerous,  to  the  bulky  "Magnalia  Christi  Ameri 
cana:  or,  the  Ecclesiastical  History  of  New  England,  from  its  First  Plant 
ing  in  the  Year  1620,  unto  the  Year  of  our  Lord,  1698."  This  is  his  most 
representative  and  most  considerable  work,  and  contains  seven  books.  The 
first  tells  of  the  founding  of  the  colonies,  the  second  of  the  lives  of  the  gov 
ernors,  the  third  of  the  lives  of  sixty  ministers,  the  fourth  of  Harvard  College, 
the  fifth  of  the  "Acts  and  Monuments  of  the  Faith  and  Order  in  the  Churches 
of  New  England,"  the  sixth  of  wonderful  providences,  and  the  seventh  of 
"The  Wars  of  the  Lord."  One  of  the  most  famous  of  Cotton  Mather's 
works  is  "The  Wonders  of  the  Invisible  World :  being  an  Account  of  the  Try- 
als  of  several  Witches  Lately  Executed  in  New  England,"  "  Published  by  the 
Special  Command  of  his  Excellency  the  Governour  of  the  Province  of  the 
Massachusetts-Bay  in  New-England,"  with  the  evident  purpose  of  defend 
ing  the  action  of  the  authorities  in  the  proceedings  at  Salem.  Another  work 
which  deserves  mention  is  that  commonly  known  as  "Essays  to  do  Good," 
which  shows  the  practical  side  of  the  author,  and  had  great  influence  on 
Benjamin  Franklin.  Cotton  Mather  is  most  readable  in  straightforward 
narratives,  like  his  accounts  of  witchcraft,  or  his  "Life  of  Sir  William  Phips" ; 

217 


2l8  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

and  in  his  exhortations  on  practical  matters.  In  dealing  with  religious  and 
philosophical  subjects  he  is  likely  to  be  pompously  and  ridiculously  pedantic. 
It  must  not  be  inferred  from  the  fact  that  several  of  the  selections  given  below 
deal  with  witchcraft  that  this  is  the  subject  of  any  great  proportion  of  the 
author's  work. 

The  selections  from  "The  Wonders  of  the  Invisible  World"  are  from  the 
reprint  in  the  "Library  of  Old  Authors,"  London,  1862.  The  Letter  to 
Governor  Dudley  is  printed  in  the  Collections  of  the  Massachusetts  His 
torical  Society.  All  the  other  selections  are  from  the  first  edition  of  the 
"Magnalia,"  London,  1702.] 

SOME   EVIDENCE    THAT   SUSANNA  MARTIN  WAS  A 

WITCH 

[From  "The  Wonders  of  the  Invisible  World"] 

IV.  John  Atkinson  testifi'd,  That  he  exchanged  a  Cow  with 
a  Son  of  Susanna  Martin's,  whereat  she  muttered,  and  was  un 
willing  he  should  have  it.     Going  to  receive  this  Cow,  tho'  he 
Hamstring'd  her,  and  Halter'd  her,  she,  of  a  Tame  Creature,  grew 
so  mad,  that  they  could  scarce  get  her  along.     She  broke  all  the 
Ropes  that  were  fastned  unto  her,  and  though  she  were  ty'd  fast 
unto  a  Tree,  yet  she  made  her  escape,  and  gave  them  such  further 
trouble,  as  they  could  ascribe  to  no  cause  but  Witchcraft. 

V.  Bernard  Peache  testifi'd,  That  being  in  Bed,  on  the  Lord's- 
day  Night,  he  heard  a  scrabbling  at  the  Window,  whereat  he 
then  saw  Susanna  Martin  come  in,  and  jump  down  upon  the 
Floor.     She  took  hold  of  this  Deponent's  Feet,  and  drawing  his 
body  up  into  an  Heap,  she  lay  upon  him  near  Two  Hours;   in 
all  which  time  he  could  neither  speak  nor  stir.     At  length,  when 
he  could  begin  to  move,  he  laid  hold  on  her  Hand,  and  pulling 
it  up  to  his  Mouth,  he  bit  three  of  her  Fingers,  as  he  judged, 
unto  the  Bone.     Whereupon  she  went  from  the  Chamber,  down 
the  Stairs,  out  at  the  Door.     This  Deponent  thereupon  called 
unto  the  People  of  the  House,  to  advise  them  of  what  passed; 
and  he  himself  did  follow  her.     The  People  saw  her  not;    but 
there  being  a  Bucket  at  the  Left-hand  of  the  Door,  there  was  a 
drop  of  Blood  found  upon  it;  and  several  more  drops  of  Blood 
upon  the  Snow  newly  fallen  abroad:    There  was  likewise  the 
print  of  her  2  Feet  just  without  the  Threshold;    but  no  more 
sign  of  any  Footing  further  off. 


COTTON  MATHER  219 

At  another  time  this  Deponent  was  desired  by  the  Prisoner,  to 
come  unto  an  Husking  of  Corn,  at  her  House;  and  she  said,  Ij 
he  did  not  come,  it  were  better  that  he  did!  He  went  not;  but 
the  Night  following,  Susanna  Martin,  as  he  judged,  and  another 
came  towards  him.  One  of  them  said,  Here  he  is!  but  he  hav 
ing  a  Quarter-staff,  made  a  Blow  at  them.  The  Roof  of  the 
Barn,  broke  his  Blow;  but  following  them  to  the  Window,  he 
made  another  Blow  at  them,  and  struck  them  down;  yet  they 
got  up,  and  got  out,  and  he  saw  no  more  of  them. 

About  this  time,  there  was  a  Rumour  about  the  Town,  that 
Martin  had  a  Broken  Head;  but  the  Deponent  could  say  noth 
ing  to  that. 

The  said  Peache  also  testifi'd  the  Bewitching  the  Cattle  to 
Death,  upon  Martin's  Discontents. 

VI.  Robert  Downer  testified,  That  this  Prisoner  being  some 
Years  ago  prosecuted  at  Court  for  a  Witch,  he  then  said  unto  her, 
He  believed  she  was  a  Witch.      Whereat  she  being  dissatisfied 
said,  That  some  She- Devil  would  shortly  fetch  him  away  !    Which 
words  were  heard  by  others,  as  well  as  himself.     The  Night  fol 
lowing,  as  he  lay  in  his  Bed,  there  came  in  at  the  Window,  the 
likeness  of  a  Cat,  which  flew  upon  him,  took  fast  hold  of  his 
Throat,  lay  on  him  a  considerable  while,  and  almost  killed  him. 
At  length  he  remembred  what  Susanna  Martin  had  threatned 
the  Day  before;    and  with  much  striving  he  cried  out,  Avoid, 
thou  She-Devil  I    In  the  Name  of  God  the  Father,  the  Son,  and 
the  Holy  Ghost,  Avoid!    Whereupon  it  left  him,  leap'd  on  the 
Floor,  and  flew  out  at  the  Window. 

And  there  also  came  in  several  Testimonies,  that  before  ever 
Downer  spoke  a  word  of  this  Accident,  Susanna  Martin  and  her 
Family  had  related,  How  this  Downer  had  been  handled  1 

VII.  John  Kembal   testified,   that   Susanna   Martin,   upon  a 
Causeless  Disgust,  had  threatned  him,  about  a  certain  Cow  of 
his,  That  she  should  never  do  him  any  more  Good:   and  it  came 
to  pass  accordingly.     For  soon  after  the  Cow  was  found  stark 
dead  on  the  dry  Ground,  without  any  Distemper  to  be  discerned 
upon  her.     Upon  which  he  was  followed  with  a  strange  Death 
upon  more  of  his  Cattle,  whereof  he  lost  in  one  Spring  to  the 
Value  of  Thirty  Pounds.     But  the  said  John  Kembal  had  a 


220  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

further  Testimony  to  give  in  against  the  Prisoner  which  was  truly 
admirable. 

Being  desirous  to  furnish  himself  with  a  Dog,  he  applied  him 
self  to  buy  one  of  this  Martin,  who  had  a  Bitch  with  Whelps  in 
her  House.  But  she  not  letting  him  have  his  choice,  he  said, 
he  would  supply  himself  then  at  one  Blezdels.  Having  mark'd 
a  Puppy,  which  he  lik'd  at  Blezdels,  he  met  George  Martin,  the 
Husband  of  the  Prisoner,  going  by,  who  asked  him,  Whether  he 
would  not  have  one  of  his  Wife's  Puppies  ?  and  he  answered  No. 
The  same  Day,  one  Edmond  Eliot,  being  at  Martin's  House, 
heard  George  Martin  relate,  where  this  Kembal  had  been,  and 
what  he  had  said.  Whereupon  Susanna  Martin  replied,  //  / 
live,  Fll  give  him  Puppies  enough!  Within  a  few  days  after, 
this  Kembal,  coming  out  of  the  Woods,  there  arose  a  little  Black 
Cloud  in  the  N.  W.  and  Kembal  immediately  felt  a  force  upon 
him,  which  made  him  not  able  to  avoid  running  upon  the  stumps 
of  Trees,  that  were  before  him,  albeit  he  had  a  broad,  plain  Cart- 
way,  before  him ;  but  tho'  he  had  his  Ax  also  on  his  Shoulder  to 
endanger  him  in  his  Falls,  he  could  not  forbear  going  out  of  his 
way  to  tumble  over  them.  When  he  came  below  the  Meeting 
House,  there  appeared  unto  him,  a  little  thing  like  a  Puppy,  of  a 
Darkish  Colour;  and  it  shot  backwards  and  forwards  between 
his  Legs.  He  had  the  courage  to  use  all  possible  Endeavours  of 
Cutting  it  with  his  Ax;  but  he  could  not  Hit  it:  the  Puppy  gave 
a  jump  from  him,  and  went,  as  to  him  it  seem'd  into  the  Ground. 
Going  a  little  further,  there  appeared  unto  him  a  Black  Puppy, 
somewhat  bigger  than  the  first,  but  as  Black  as  a  Cole.  Its 
Motions  were  quicker  than  those  of  his  Ax;  it  flew  at  his  Belly, 
and  away;  then  at  his  Throat;  so,  over  his  Shoulder  one  way, 
and  then  over  his  Shoulder  another  way.  His  Heart  now  began 
to  fail  him,  and  he  thought  the  Dog  would  have  tore  his  Throat 
out.  But  he  recovered  himself,  and  called  upon  God  in  his 
Distress;  and  naming  the  Name  of  JESUS  CHRIST,  it  vanished 
away  at  once.  The  Deponent  spoke  not  one  Word  of  these 
Accidents,  for  fear  of  affrighting  his  Wife.  But  the  next  Morn 
ing  Edmond  Eliot,  going  into  Martin's  House,  this  Woman  asked 
him  where  Kembal  was?  He  replied,  At  Home,  a  Bed,  for  ought 
he  knew.  She  returned,  They  say,  he  was  frighted  last  Night. 


COTTON  MATHER  221 

Eliot  asked,  With  what?  She  answered,  With  Puppies.  Eliot 
asked,  Where  she  heard  of  it,  for  he  had  heard  nothing  of  it?  She 
rejoined,  About  the  Town.  Altho'  Kembal  had  mentioned  the 
Matter  to  no  Creature  living. 

VIII.  William  Brown  testifi'd,  That  Heaven  having  blessed 
him  with  a  most  Pious  and  Prudent  Wife,  this  Wife  of  his,  one 
day  met  with  Susanna  Martin;    but  when  she  approach'd  just 
unto  her,  Martin  vanished  out  of  sight,  and  left  her  extreamly 
affrighted.     After  which  time,   the  said  Martin  often  appear'd 
unto  her,  giving  her  no  little  trouble;    and  when  she  did  come, 
she  was  visited  with  Birds,  that  sorely  peck'd  and  prick'd  her; 
and  sometimes,  a  Bunch,  like  a  Pullet's  Egg,  would  rise  in  her 
Throat,  ready  to  choak  her,  till  she  cry'd  out,  Witch,  you  shan't 
choak  me!    While  this  good  Woman  was  in  this  extremity,  the 
Church  appointed  a  Day  of  Prayer,  on  her  behalf;    whereupon 
her  Trouble  ceas'd;    she  saw  not  Martin  as  formerly;    and  the 
Church,  instead  of  their  Fast,  gave  Thanks  for  her  Deliverance. 
But  a  considerable  while  after,  she  being  Summoned  to  give  in 
some  Evidence  at  the  Court,  against  this  Martin,  quickly  there 
upon,  this  Martin  came  behind  her,  while  she  was  milking  her 
Cow,  and  said  unto  her,  For  thy  defaming  her  at  Court,  I'll  make 
thee  the  miserablest  Creature  in  the  World.     Soon  after  which,  she 
fell  into  a  strange  kind  of  distemper,  and  became  horribly  frantick, 
and  uncapable  of  any  reasonable  Action;   the  Physicians  declar 
ing,  that  her  Distemper  was  praeternatural,  and  that  some  Devil 
had  certainly  bewitched  her;    and  in  that  condition  she  now 
remained. 

IX.  Sarah   Atkinson   testify 'd,   That  Susanna  Martin   came 
from  Amesbury  to  their  House  at  Newbury,  in  an  extraordinary 
Season,  when  it  was  not  fit  for  any  to  Travel.     She  came  (as  she 
said,  unto  Atkinson)  all  that  long  way  on  Foot.     She  brag'd  and 
shew'd  how  dry  she  was ;   nor  could  it  be  perceived  that  so  much 
as  the  Soles  of  her  Shoes  were  wet.     Atkinson  was  amazed  at  it; 
and  professed,  that  she  should  her  self  have  been  wet  up  to  the 
knees,  if  she  had  then  came  so  far;    but  Martin  reply'd,  She 
scorn' d  to  be  Drabbled!    It  was  noted,  that  this  Testimony  upon 
her  Trial,  cast  her  in  a  very  singular  Confusion. 


222  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

THE  INVISIBILITY   OF  WITCHES 

[From  "The  Wonders  of  the  Invisible  World"] 

In  all  the  Witchcraft  which  now  Grievously  Vexes  us,  I  know 
not  whether  anything  be  more  Unaccountable,  than  the  Trick 
which  the  Witches  have  to  render  themselves,  and  their  Tools 
Invisible.  Witchcraft  seems  to  be  the  Skill  of  Applying  the 
Plastic  Spirit  of  the  World,  unto  some  unlawful  purposes,  by 
means  of  a  Confederacy  with  Evil  Spirits.  Yet  one  would  wonder 
how  the  Evil  Spirits  themselves  can  do  some  things;  especially 
at  Invisibilizing  of  the  Grossest  Bodies.  I  can  tell  the  Name 
of  an  Ancient  Author,  who  pretends  to  show  the  way,  how  a 
man  may  come  to  walk  about  Invisible,  and  I  can  tell  the  Name 
of  another  Ancient  Author,  who  pretends  to  Explode  that  way. 
But  I  will  not  speak  too  plainly  Lest  I  should  unawares  Poison 
some  of  my  Readers,  as  the  pious  Hemingius  did  one  of  his  Pupils, 
when  he  only  by  way  of  Diversion  recited  a  Spell,  which,  they 
had  said,  would  cure  Agues.  This  much  I  will  say;  The  notion 
of  procuring  Invisibility,  by  any  Natural  Expedient,  yet  known, 
is,  I  Believe,  a  meer  PLINYISM;  How  far  it  may  be  obtained  by 
a  Magical  Sacrament,  is  best  known  to  the  Dangerous  Knaves 
that  have  try'd  it.  But  our  Witches  do  seem  to  have  got  the 
knack:  and  this  is  one  of  the  Things,  that  make  me  think,  Witch 
craft  will  not  be  fully  understood,  until  the  day  when  there  shall 
not  be  one  Witch  in  the  World. 

There  are  certain  people  very  Dogmatical  about  these  matters; 
but  I'll  give  them  only  these  three  Bones  to  pick. 

First,  One  of  our  bewitched  people,  was  cruelly  assaulted  by 
a  Spectre,  that,  she  said,  ran  at  her  with  a  spindle:  tho'  no  body 
else  in  the  Room,  could  see  either  the  Spectre  or  the  spindle.  At 
last,  in  her  miseries,  giving  a  snatch  at  the  Spectre,  she  pull'd 
the  spindle  away,  and  it  was  no  sooner  got  into  her  hand,  but  the 
other  people  then  present,  beheld,  that  it  was  indeed  a  Real, 
Proper,  Iron  spindle,  belonging  they  knew  to  whom ;  which  when 
they  lock'd  up  very  safe,  it  was  nevertheless  by  Demons  unaccount 
ably  stole  away,  to  do  further  mischief. 

Secondly,  Another  of  our  bewitched  people,  was  haunted  with 
a  most  abusive  Spectre,  which  came  to  her,  she  said,  with  a  sheet 


COTTON  MATHER  223 

about  her.  After  she  had  undergone  a  deal  of  Teaze,  from 
the  Annoyance  of  the  Spectre,  she  gave  a  violent  snatch  at 
the  sheet,  that  was  upon  it;  wherefrom  she  tore  a  corner,  which 
in  her  hand  immediately  became  Visible  to  a  Roomful  of  Specta 
tors;  a  palpable  Corner  of  a  Sheet.  Her  Father,  who  was  now 
holding  her,  catch'd  that  he  might  keep  what  his  daughter  had 
so  strangely  siezed,  but  the  unseen  Spectre  had  like  to  have  pull'd 
his  hand  off,  by  endeavouring  to  wrest  it  from  him;  however  he 
still  held  it,  and  I  suppose  has  it,  still  to  show;  it  being  but  a 
few  hours  ago,  namely  about  the  beginning  of  this  October,  that 
this  Accident  happened;  in  the  family  of  one  Pitman,  at  Man 
chester. 

Thirdly,  a  young  man,  delaying  to  procure  Testimonials  for 
his  Parents,  who  being  under  confinement  on  suspicion  of  Witch 
craft,  required  him  to  do  that  service  for  them,  was  quickly  pur 
sued  with  odd  Inconveniences.  But  once  above  the  Rest,  an 
Officer  going  to  put  his  Brand  on  the  Horns  of  some  Cows,  be 
longing  to  these  people,  which  tho'  he  had  siez'd  for  some  of  their 
debts,  yet  he  was  willing  to  leave  in  their  possession,  for  the  sub 
sistence  of  the  poor  Family;  this  young  man  help'd  in  holding 
the  Cows  to  be  thus  branded.  The  three  first  Cows  he  held 
well  enough ;  but  when  the  hot  Brand  was  clap'd  upon  the  Fourth, 
he  winc'd  and  shrunk  at  such  a  Rate,  as  that  he  could  hold  the 
Cow  no  longer.  Being  afterwards  Examined  about  it,  he  con 
fessed,  that  at  that  very  instant  when  the  Brand  entered  the  Cow's 
Horn,  exactly  the  like  burning  Brand  was  clap'd  upon  his  own 
Thigh ;  where  he  has  exposed  the  lasting  marks  of  it,  unto  such 
as  asked  to  see  them. 

Unriddle  these  Things,  —  Et  Eris  mihi  magnus  Apollo. 

A  TEMPERANCE  EXHORTATION  OF   1698 

[From  "The  Bostonian  Ebenezer"  »] 

And  Oh  !  That  the  Drinking-Houses  in  the  Town  might  once 
come  under  a  laudable  Regulation.  The  Town  has  an  Enormous 

[J  The  full  title  given  by  the  author  to  this  address  is  "  The  Bostonian  Ebenezer. 
Some  Historical  Remarks  on  the  State  of  Boston,  the  Chief  Town  of  New-England, 
and  of  the  English  America.  With  Some  Agreeable  Methods  for  Preserving 


224  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

Number  of  them;  will  the  Haunters  of  those  Houses  hear  the 
Counsels  of  Heaven?  For  You  that  are  the  Town-Dwellers,  to 
be  oft,  or  long  in  your  Visits  of  the  Ordinary,  'twill  certainly 
expose  you  to  Mischiefs  more  than  ordinary.  I  have  seen  certain 
Taverns,  where  the  Pictures  of  horrible  Devourers  were  hang'd 
out  for  the  Signs;  and,  thought  I,  'twere  well  if  such  Signs  were 
not  sometimes  too  too  Significant:  Alas,  Men  have  their  Estates 
devoured,  their  Names  devoured,  their  Hours  devoured,  and  their 
very  Souls  devoured,  when  they  are  so  besotted,  that  they  are  not 
in  their  Element,  except  they  be  Tipling  at  such  Houses.  When 
once  a  Man  is  bewitched  with  the  Ordinary,  what  usually  becomes 
of  him?  He  is  a  gone  Man;  and  when  he  comes  to  Die,  he'll 
cry  out  as  many  have  done,  Ale-Houses  are  Hell-Houses!  Ale- 
Houses  are  Hell-Houses!  But  let  the  Owners  of  those  Houses 
also  now  hear  our  Counsels.  Oh!  Hearken  to  me,  that  God  may 
hearken  to  you  another  Day !  It  is  an  Honest,  and  a  Lawful,  tho' 
it  be  not  a  very  Desireable  Employment,  that  you  have  under 
taken:  You  may  Glorifie  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  in  your  Employ 
ment  if  you  will,  and  benefit  the  Town  considerably.  There  was 
a  very  godly  Man  that  was  an  Innkeeper,  and  a  great  Minister 
of  God  could  say  to  that  Man,  in  3  John  2.  Thy  Soul  prospereth. 
O  let  it  not  be  said  of  you,  since  you  are  fallen  into  this  Employ 
ment,  Thy  Soul  wither eth I  It  is  thus  with  too  many:  Especially, 
when  they  that  get  a  License  perhaps  to  Sell  Drink  out  of  Doors, 
do  stretch  their  License  to  Sell  within  Doors.  Those  Private 
Houses,  when  once  a  Professor  of  the  Gospel  comes  to  Steal  a 
Living  out  of  them,  it  commonly  precipitates  them  into  abun 
dance  of  wretchedness  and  confusion.  But  I  pray  God  assist  you 
that  keep  Ordinaries,  to  keep  the  Commandments  of  God  in  them. 
There  was  an  Inn  at  Bethlehem  where  the  Lord  JESUS  CHRIST 
was  to  be  met  withal.  Can  Boston  boast  of  many  such?  Alas, 
too  ordinarily  it  may  be  said,  There  is  no  Room  for  him  in  the 
Inn!  My  Friends,  let  me  beg  it  of  you,  banish  the  unfruitful 
works  of  Darkness  from  your  Houses,  and  then  the  Sun  of  Righteous - 

and  Promoting  the  Good  State  of  That,  as  well  as  any  other  Town  in  the  like 
Circumstances."  The  text  was  i  Sam.  vii,  12;  and  it  was  delivered  "At  Boston 
Lecture,  7.  d.  2.  m.  1698."  It  is  included  in  the  "Magnalia,"  as  a  sort  of  ap 
pendix  to  Book  I.] 


COTTON  MATHER  225 

ness  will  shine  upon  them.  Don't  countenance  Drunkenness, 
Revelling,  and  Mis-spending  of  precious  Time  in  your  Houses: 
Let  none  have  the  Snares  of  Death  laid  for  them  in  your  Houses. 
You'll  say,  I  shall  Starve  then!  I  say,  better  Starve  than  Sin: 
But  you  shall  not.  It  is  the  Word  of  the  Most  High,  Trust  in 
the  Lord,  and  do  Good,  and  verily  thou  shall  be  Fed.  And  is  not 
Peace  of  Conscience,  with  a  Little,  better  than  those  Riches,  that 
will  shortly  melt  away,  and  then  run  like  Scalding  Metal  down 
the  very  Bowels  of  thy  Soul? 

THE  DISCOVERY   OF  AMERICA 

[From  the  "Magnalia,"  Book  I,  Chap.  I l] 

§  i.  It  is  the  Opinion  of  some,  though  'tis  but  an  Opinion, 
and  but  of  some  Learned  Men,  That  when  the  Sacred  Oracles  of 
Heaven  assure  us,  The  Things  under  the  Earth  are  some  of  those, 
whose  Knees  are  to  bow  in  the  Name  of  Jesus,  by  those  Things 
are  meant  the  Inhabitants  of  America,  who  are  Antipodes  to  those 
of  the  other  Hemisphere.  I  would  not  Quote  any  Words  of  Lac- 
tantius,  tho'  there  are  some  to  Countenance  this  Interpretation, 
because  of  their  being  so  Ungeo graphical:  Nor  would  I  go  to 
strengthen  the  Interpretation  by  reciting  the  Words  of  the  Indians 
to  the  first  White  Invaders  of  their  Territories,  We  hear  you  are 
come  from  under  the  World,  to  take  our  World  from  us.  But  grant 
ing  the  uncertainty  of  such  an  Exposition,  I  shall  yet  give  the 
Church  of  God  a  certain  Account  of  those  Things,  which  in  A  merica 
have  been  Believing  and  Adoring  the  glorious  Name  of  Jesus ;  and 
of  that  Country  in  America,  where  those  Things  have  been  attended 
with  Circumstances  most  remarkable.  I  can  contentedly  allow 
that  America  (which  as  the  Learned  Nicolas  Fuller  Observes, 
might  more  justly  be  called  Columbind)  was  altogether  unknown 
to  the  Penmen  of  the  Holy  Scriptures,  and  in  the  Ages  when  the 
Scriptures  were  Penned.  I  can  allow,  that  those  Parts  of  the 
Earth,  which  do  not  include  America,  are  in  the  inspired  Writings 
of  Luke,  and  of  Paul,  stiled,  All  the  World.  I  can  allow,  that  the 

[irThe  title  of  the  chapter  is  "  Venisti  tandem?  or  Discoveries  of  AMERICA, 
tending  to,  and  ending  in,  Discoveries  of  NEW-ENGLAND."] 


226  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

Opinion  of  Torniellus,  and  of  Pagius,  about  the  Apostles  Preaching 
the  Gospel  in  America,  has  been  sufficiently  refuted  by  Basnagius. 
But  I  am  out  of  the  reach  of  Pope  Zachary's  Excommuni 
cation.  I  can  assert  the  Existence  of  the  American  Antipo 
des:  And  I  can  Report  unto  the  European  Churches  great 
Occurrences  among  these  Americans.  Yet  I  will  Report  every 
one  of  them  with  such  a  Christian  and  exact  Veracity,  that  no 
Man  shall  have  cause  to  use  about  any  one  of  them,  the  Words 
which  the  great  Austin  (as  great  as  he  was)  used  about  the  Exist 
ence  of  Antipodes;  it  is  a  Fable,  and,  nulla  ratione  credendum. 

§  2.  If  the  Wicked  One  in  whom  the  whole  World  lyeth,  were 
he,  who  like  a  Dragon,  keeping  a  Guard  upon  the  spacious  and 
mighty  Orchards  of  America,  could  have  such  a  Fascination  upon 
the  Thoughts  of  Mankind,  that  neither  this  Balancing  half  of  the 
Globe  should  be  considered  in  Europe  till  a  little  more  than  two 
Hundred  Years  ago,  nor  the  Clue  that  might  lead  unto  it,  namely, 
the  Loadstone,  should  be  known,  till  a  Neapolitan  stumbled  upon 
it,  about  an  Hundred  Years  before;  yet  the  overruling  Provi 
dence  of  the  great  God  is  to  be  acknowledged,  as  well  in  the  Con 
cealing  of  America  for  so  long  a  time,  as  in  the  Discovering  of  it, 
when  the  fulness  of  Time  was  come  for  the  Discovery:  For  we 
may  count  America  to  have  been  concealed,  while  Mankind  in 
the  other  Hemisphere  had  lost  all  Acquaintance  with  it,  if  we  may 
conclude  it  had  any  from  the  Words  of  Diodorus  Siculus,  that 
Phoenicians  were  by  great  Storms  driven  off  the  Coast  of  Africa, 
far  Westward,  tirl  TroXXa?  ^/xe/aas,  for  many  Days  together,  and 
at  last  fell  in  with  an  Island  of  prodigious  Magnitude:  or  from 
the  Words  of  Plato,  that  beyond  the  Pillars  of  Hercules  there 
was  an  Island  in  the  Atlantick  Ocean,  a/xa  AI^VT/S  Kat  Ao-tas 
/u,e'i£wv  larger  than  Africa  and  Asia  put  together:  Nor  should  it 
pass  without  Remark,  that  Three  most  memorable  things  which 
have  born  a  very  great  Aspect  upon  Humane  Affairs,  did  near 
the  same  time,  namely  at  the  Conclusion  of  the  Fifteenth,  and 
the  beginning  of  the  Sixteenth  Century,  arise  unto  the  World: 
The  First  was  the  Resurrection  of  Literature;  the  Second  was 
the  opening  of  America;  the  Third  was  the  Reformation  of  Reli 
gion.  But,  as  probably,  the  Devil  seducing  the  first  Inhabitants 
of  America  into  it,  therein  aimed  at  the  having  of  them  and  their 


COTTON  MATHER  227 

Posterity  out  of  the  sound  of  the  Silver  Trumpets  of  the  Gospel, 
then  to  be  heard  through  the  Roman  Empire;  if  the  Devil  had 
any  Expectation,  that  by  the  Peopling  of  America,  he  should 
utterly  deprive  any  Europeans  of  the  Two  Benefits,  Literature 
and  Religion,  which  dawned  upon  the  miserable  World,  one  just 
before,  t'other  just  afar,  the  first  famed  Navigation  hither,  'tis 
to  be  hop'd  he  will  be  disappointed  of  that  Expectation.  The 
Church  of  God  must  no  longer  be  wrapp'd  up  in  Strabo's  Cloak : 
Geography  must  now  find  work  for  a  Christiano-graphy  in  Regions 
far  enough  beyond  the  Bounds  wherein  the  Church  of  God  had 
thro'  all  former  Ages  been  circumscribed.  Renown'd  Churches 
of  Christ  must  be  gathered  where  the  Ancients  once  Derided 
them  that  look'd  for  any  Inhabitants.  The  Mystery  of  our  Lord's 
Garments,  made  Four  Parts,  by  the  Soldiers  that  cast  Lots  for 
them,  is  to  be  accomplished  in  the  good  Sence  put  upon  it  by 
Austin,  who  if  he  had  known  America  could  not  have  given  a 
better  Quadripartita  vestis  Domini  Jesu,  quadripartitam  figuravit 
ejus  Ecclesiam,  toto  scilicet,  qid  quatuor  partibus  constat,  terraram 
orbe  dijjusam. 

§  3.  Whatever  Truth  may  be  in  that  Assertion  of  one  who 
writes;  If  we  may  credit  any  Records  besides  the  Scriptures,  I 
know  it  might  be  said  and  proved  well,  that  this  New  World  was 
known,  and  partly  Inhabited  by  Britains,  or  by  Saxons  from  Eng 
land,  Three  or  Four  Hundred  Years  before  the  Spaniards  coming 
thither;  which  Assertion  is  Demonstrated  from  the  Discourses 
between  the  Mexicans  and  the  Spaniards  at  their  first  Arrival; 
and  the  Popish  Reliques,  as  well  as  British  Terms  and  WTords, 
which  the  Spaniards  then  found  among  the  Mexicans,  as  well  as 
from  undoubted  Passages,  not  only  in  other  Authors,  but  in  the 
British  Annals  also:  Nevertheless,  Mankind  generally  agree  to 
give  unto  Christopher  Columbus,  a  Genoese,  the  Honour  of  being 
the  First  European  that  opened  a  way  into  these  Parts  of  the  World. 
It  was  in  the  Year  1492.  that  this  famous  Man,  acted  by  a  most 
vehement  and  wonderful  Impulse,  was  carried  into  the  Northern 
Regions  of  this  vast  Hemisphere,  which  might  more  justly  therefore 
have  receiv'd  its  Name  from  Him,  than  from  Americus  Vesputius 
a  Florentine,  who  in  the  Year  1497.  made  a  further  Detection  of  the 
more  Southern  Regions  in  this  Continent.  So  a  World,  which 


228  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

has  been  one  great  Article  among  the  Res  deperditae  of  Pan- 
cirollus,  is  now  found  out,  and  the  Affairs  of  the  whole  World  have 
been  affected  by  the  finding  of  it.  So  the  Church  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  well  compared  unto  a  Ship,  is  now  victoriously  sail 
ing  round  the  Globe  after  Sir  Francis  Drake's  renowned  Ship, 
called,  The  Victory,  which  could  boast, 

Prima  ego  velivolis  ambivi  cursibus  orbem. 

And  yet  the  Story  about  Columbus  himself  must  be  corrected 
from  the  Information  of  De  la  Vega,  That  one  Sanchez,  a  Native 
of  Helva  in  Spain,  did  before  him  find  out  these  Regions.  He 
tells  us,  that  Sanchez  using  to  trade  in  a  small  vessel  to  the  Canaries, 
was  driven  by  a  furious  and  tedious  Tempest  over  unto  these 
Western  Countries ;  and  at  his  return  he  gave  to  Colon,  or  Columbus, 
an  account  of  what  he  had  seen,  but  soon  after  died  of  a  Disease 
he  had  got  on  his  dangerous  Voyage.  However,  I  shall  expect 
my  Reader  e're  long  to  grant,  that  some  things  done  since  by 
Almighty  God  for  the  English  in  these  Regions,  have  exceeded  all 
that  has  hitherto  been  done  for  any  other  Nation:  If  this  New 
World  were  not  found  out  first  by  the  English;  yet  in  those  re 
gards  that  are  of  all  the  greatest,  it  seems  to  be  found  out  more  for 
them  than  any  other. 

THE    LIFE    OF    MR.    RALPH    PARTRIDGE 

[Chap.  XI,  Book  III,  of  the  "Magnalia"] 

When  David  was  driven  from  his  Friends  into  the  Wilderness, 
he  made  this  Pathetical  Representation  of  his  Condition,  'Twas 
as  when  one  doth  hunt  a  Partridge  in  the  Mountains.  Among 
the  many  worthy  Persons  who  were  persecuted  into  an  American 
Wilderness,  for  their  Fidelity  to  the  Ecclesiastical  Kingdom  of  our 
true  David,  there  was  one  that  bore  the  Name,  as  well  as  the  State, 
of  an  hunted  Partridge.  What  befel  him,  was,  as  Bede  saith  of 
what  was  done  by  Fodix,  Juxta  nominis  sui  Sacramentum. 

This  was  Mr.  Ralph  Partridge,  who  for  no  Fault  but  the  Deli 
cacy  of  his  good  Spirit,  being  distress'd  by  the  Ecclesiastical 
Setters,  had  no  Defence,  neither  of  Beak,  nor  Claw,  but  a  Flight 
over  the  Ocean. 


COTTON  MATHER  229 

The  Place  where  he  took  Covert,  was  the  Colony  of  Plymouth, 
and  the  Town  of  Duxbury  in  that  Colony. 

This  Partridge  had  not  only  the  Innocency  of  the  Dove,  con 
spicuous  in  his  blameless  and  pious  Life,  which  made  him  very 
acceptable  in  his  Conversation ;  but  also  the  Loftiness  of  an  Eagle, 
in  the  great  Soar  of  his  intellectual  Abilities.  There  are  some 
Interpreters,  who  understanding  Church  Officers  by  the  living 
Creatures,  in  the  Fourth  Chapter  of  the  Apocalypse,  will  have  the 
Teacher  to  be  intended  by  the  Eagle  there,  for  his  quick  Insight  into 
remote  and  hidden  things.  The  Church  of  Duxbury  had  such  an 
Eagle  in  their  Partridge,  when  they  enjoy'd  such  a  Teacher. 

By  the  same  Token,  when  the  Platform  of  Church-Discipline 
was  to  be  compos'd,  the  Synod  at  Cambridge  appointed  three  Per 
sons  to  draw  up  each  of  them,  A  Model  of  Church-Government, 
according  to  the  Word  of  God,  unto  the  end,  that  out  of  those,  the 
Synod  might  form  what  should  be  found  most  agreeable ;  which 
three  Persons  were  Mr.  Cotton,  and  Mr.  Mather,  and  Mr.  Part 
ridge.  So  that  in  the  Opinion  of  that  Reverend  Assembly,  this 
Person  did  not  come  far  behind  the  first  three,  for  some  of  his 
Accomplishments. 

After  he  had  been  Forty  Years  a  faithful  and  painful  Preacher 
of  the  Gospel,  rarely,  if  ever,  in  all  that  while  interrupted  in  his 
Work,  by  any  Bodily  Sickness,  he  dy'd  in  a  good  Old  Age  about 
the  Year  1658. 

There  was  one  singular  instance  of  a  weaned  Spirit,  whereby  he 
signalized  himself  unto  the  Churches  of  God.  That  was  this: 
There  was  a  time,  when  most  of  the  Ministers  in  the  Colony  of 
Plymouth,  left  the  Colony,  upon  the  Discouragement  which  the 
want  of  a  competent  Maintenance  among  the  needy  and  froward 
Inhabitants,  gave  unto  them.  Nevertheless,  Mr.  Partridge  was, 
notwithstanding  the  Paucity  and  the  Poverty  of  his  Congregation, 
so  afraid  of  being  any  thing  that  look'd  like  a  Bird  ivandring 
from  his  Nest,  that  he  remained  with  his  poor  People,  till  he  took 
Wing  to  become  a  Bird  of  Paradise,  along  with  the  winged  Sera 
phim  of  Heaven. 

Epitaphium. 

Avolavit ! 


230  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

PERSONAL    OBSERVATIONS    OF  A    BEWITCHED 
CHILD 

[From  the  "Magnalia,"  Book  VI,  Chap.  VII] 

It  was  the  Eldest  of  these  Children  that  fell  chiefly  under  my 
own  Observation :  For  I  took  her  home  to  my  own  Family,  partly 
out  of  compassion  to  her  Parents,  but  chiefly,  that  I  might  be  a 
critical  Eye-Witness  of  things  that  would  enable  me  to  confute 
the  Sadducism  of  this  Debauch 'd  Age.  Here  she  continu'd  well 
for  some  Days ;  applying  her  self  to  Actions  of  Industry  and  Piety : 
But  Nov.  20.  1688.  she  cry'd  out,  Ah,  they  have  found  me  out! 
and  immediately  she  fell  into  her  Fits ;  wherein  we  often  observ'd, 
that  she  would  cough  up  a  Ball  as  big  as  a  small  Egg,  into  the  side 
of  her  Wind  pipe,  that  would  near  choak  her,  till  by  Stroaking 
and  by  Drinking  it  was  again  carry'd  down. 

When  I  pray'd  in  the  Room,  first  her  Hands  were  with  a  strong, 
tho'  not  even  Force,  clapt  upon  her  Ears :  And  when  her  Hands 
were  by  our  Force  pulPd  away,  she  cry'd  out,  They  make  such  a 
Noise,  I  cannot  hear  a  Word!  She  complain'd  that  Glover's 
Chain  was  upon  her  Leg;  and  assaying  to  go,  her  Gate  was  ex 
actly  such  as  the  chained  Witch  had  before  she  dy'd.  When  her 
Tortures  pass'd  over,  still  Frolicks  would  succeed,  wherein  she 
would  continue  Hours,  yea,  Days  together,  talking  perhaps  never 
wickedly  but  always  wittily  beyond  her  self :  And  at  certain  Provo 
cations  her  Torments  would  renew  upon  her,  till  we  had  left  off 
to  Give  them ;  yet  she  frequently  told  us  in  these  Frolicks,  That  if 
she  might  but  steal  or  be  drunk,  she  should  be  well  immediately. 
She  told  us,  that  she  must  go  down  to  the  bottom  of  our  Well,  (and 
we  had  much  ado  to  hinder  it)  for  they  said  there  was  Plate  there, 
and  they  would  bring  her  up  safely  again. 

We  wonder'd  at  this:  For  she  had  never  heard  of  any  Plate 
there ;  and  we  our  selves,  who  had  newly  bought  the  House,  were 
ignorant  of  it :  but  the  former  Owner  of  the  House  just  then  coming 
in,  told  us  There  had  been  Plate  for  many  Years  lost  at  the  Bottom 
of  the  Well.  Moreover,  one  singular  Passion  that  frequently 
attended  her,  was  this: 


COTTON  MATHER  231 

An  invisible  Chain  would  be  clapt  about  her,  and  she  in  much 
pain  and  Fear,  cry  out  when  [They]1  began  to  put  it  on.  Sometimes 
we  could  with  our  Hands  knock  it  off,  as  it  began  to  be  fasten'd: 
But  ordinarily,  when  it  was  on,  she  would  be  pull'd  out  of  her  Seat, 
with  such  Violence,  towards  the  Fire,  that  it  was  as  much  as  one 
or  two  of  us  could  do  to  keep  her  out.  Her  Eyes  were  not  brought 
to  be  perpendicular  to  her  Feet,  when  she  rose  out  of  her  Seat,  as 
the  Mechanism  of  an  humane  Body  requires  in  them  that  rise; 
but  she  was  dragg'd  wholly  by  other  Hands.  And  if  we  stamp'd 
on  the  Hearth,  just  between  her  and  the  Fire,  she  scream'd  out, 
That  by  jarring  the  Chain,  we  hurt  her. 

I  may  add,  that  [They]  put  an  unseen  Rope,  with  a  cruel  Noose, 
about  her  Neck,  whereby  she  was  choak'd  until  she  was  black  in 
the  Face :  And  tho'  it  was  got  off  before  it  had  kill'd  her;  yet  there 
were  the  Red  Marks  of  it,  and  of  a  Finger  and  a  Thumb  near  it, 
remaining  to  be  seen  for  some  while  afterwards.  Furthermore, 
not  only  upon  her  own  looking  into  the  Bible,  but  if  any  one  else 
in  the  Room  did  it,  wholly  unknown  to  her,  she  would  fall  into  un- 
sufferable  Torments. 

A  Quaker's  Book  being  brought  her,  she  could  quietly  read  whole 
Pages  of  it ;  only  the  Name  of  GOD  and  CHRIST,  she  still  skipp'd 
over,  being  unable  to  pronounce  it,  except  sometimes,  stammering 
a  Minute  or  two,  or  more  upon  it :  And  when  we  urg'd  her  to  tell 
what  the  Word  was  that  she  miss'd,  she  would  say,  /  must  not 
speak  it:  They  say  I  must  not.  You  know  what  it  is:  'Tis  G,  and 
O,  and  D.  But  a  Book  against  Quakerism  [They]  would  not  allow 
her  to  meddle  with.  Such  Books,  as  it  might  have  been  profitable 
and  edifying  for  her  to  read,  and  especially  her  Catechisms,  if  she 
did  but  offer  to  read  a  Line  in  them,  she  would  be  cast  into  hideous 
Convulsions,  and  be  tost  about  the  House  like  a  Foot  ball :  But 
Books  of  Jests  being  shewn  her,  she  could  read  them  well  enough, 
and  have  cunning  Descants  upon  them.  Popish  Books  [They} 
would  not  hinder  her  from  reading;  but  [They]  would  from  read 
ing  Books  against  Popery.  A  Book  which  pretends  to  prove 
That  there  are  no  Witches*,  was  easily  read  by  her ;  only  the  Name 
Devils  and  Witches  might  not  be  utter'd.  A  Book  which  proves 
That  there  are  Witches,  being  exhibited  unto  her,  she  might  not  read 

[J  Throughout  this  selection  the  brackets  are  those  of  the  original.] 


232  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

it:  And  that  Expression  in  the  Story  of  Ann  Cole,  about  running 
to  the  Rock,  always  threw  her  into  sore  Confusions. 

Divers  of  these  Trials  were  made  by  many  Witnesses:  But  I 
considering  that  there  might  be  a  Snare  in  it,  put  a  seasonable 
Stop  to  this  fanciful  Business.  Only  I  could  not  but  be  amaz'd 
at  one  thing:  A  certain  Prayer-Book  being  brought  her,  she  not 
only  could  read  it  very  well,  but  also  did  read  a  large  Part  of  it 
over,  calling  it  her  Bible,  and  putting  a  more  than  ordinary  Re 
spect  upon  it.  If  she  were  going  into  her  Tortures,  at  the  Tender 
of  this  Book,  she  would  recover  her  self  to  read  it :  Only  when  she 
came  to  the  Lord's  Prayer  now  and  then  occurring  in  that  Book, 
she  would  have  her  Eyes  put  out;  so  that  she  must  turn  over  a 
new  Leaf,  and  then  she  could  read  again.  Whereas  also  there 
are  Scriptures  in  that  Book,  she  could  read  them  there:  but  if 
any  shew'd  her  the  very  same  Scriptures  in  the  Bible  it  self,  she 
should  sooner  die  than  read  them :  And  she  wras  likewise  made 
unable  to  read  the  Psalms  in  an  ancient  Metre,  which  this 
Prayer-Book  had  in  the  same  Volume  with  it. 

Besides  these,  there  was  another  inexplicable  Thing  in  her  Con 
dition.  Ever  now  and  then,  an  Invisible  Horse  would  be  brought 
unto  her  by  those  whom  she  only  call'd  [Them,]  and  [Her  Com 
pany,]  upon  the  Approach  of  which,  her  Eyes  wou'd  be  still  clos'd 
up:  For  (said  she)  They  say  I  am  a  Tell-tale,  and  therefore  they 
will  not  let  me  see  them.  Hereupon  she  would  give  a  Spring  as  one 
mounting  an  Horse,  and  setling  her  self  in  a  riding  Posture,  she 
would  in  her  Chair  be  agitated,  as  one  sometimes  Ambling,  some 
times  Trotting,  and  sometimes  Galloping  very  furiously.  In 
these  Motions  we  could  not  perceive  that  she  was  mov'd  by  the 
Stress  of  her  Feet  upon  the  Ground,  for  often  she  touch'd  it  not. 
When  she  had  rode  a  Minute  or  two,  she  would  seem  to  be  at  a 
Rendezvous  with  [Them]  that  were  [Her  Company,]  and  there  she 
would  maintain  a  Discourse  with  them,  asking  them  many  Ques 
tions  concerning  her  self  [we  gave  her  none  of  ours]  and  have  An 
swers  from  them  which  indeed  none  but  herself  perceiv'd.  Then 
would  she  return  and  inform  us,  How  [They]  did  intend  to  handle 
her  for  a  Day  or  two  afterwards,  and  some  other  things  that  she 
inquir'd.  Her  Horse  would  sometimes  throw  her  with  much 
Violence;  especially  if  any  one  stabb'd  or  cut  the  Air  under  her. 
But  she  would  briskly  mount  again,  and  perform  her  Fantastick 


COTTON  MATHER  233 

Journies,  mostly  in  her  Chair;  but  sometimes  also  she  would 
be  carry'd  from  her  Chair,  out  of  one  Room  into  another,  very 
odly,  in  the  Postures  of  a  riding  Woman.  At  length,  she  pre 
tended,  that  her  Horse  could  ride  up  the  Stairs;  and  unto  admira 
tion  she  rode,  (that  is,  was  toss'd  as  one  that  rode)  up  the  Stairs. 
There  then  stood  open  the  Study  of  one  belonging  to  the  Family: 
Into  which  entring,  she  stood  immediately  on  her  Feet,  and  cry'd 
out.  They  are  gone!  They  are  gone!  They  say  that  they  cannot, 

God  won't  let  'em  come  here!   Adding  a  Reason  for  it,  which 

the  Owner  of  the  Study  thought  more  Kind  than  True.  And  she 
presently  and  perfectly  came  to  her  self,  so  that  her  whole  Dis 
course  and  Carriage  was  alter'd  unto  the  greatest  measure  of 
Sobriety:  and  she  sate  reading  of  the  Bible  and  other  good  Books, 
for  a  good  part  of  the  Afternoon.  Her  Affairs  calling  her  anon 
to  go  down  again,  the  Dcemons  were  in  a  quarter  of  a  Minute  as  bad 
upon  her  as  before ;  and  her  Horse  was  waiting  for  her.  Some 
then  to  see  whether  there  had  not  been  a  Fallacy  in  what  had 
newly  hapned,  resolv'd  for  to  have  her  up  unto  the  Study,  where  she 
had  been  at  ease  before;  but  she  was  then  so  strangely  distorted, 
that  it  was  an  extream  Difficulty  to  drag  her  up  stairs.  The 
Daemons  would  pull  her  out  of  the  Peoples  Hands,  and  make  her 
heavier  than  perhaps  Three  of  her  self.  With  incredible  Toil. 
(tho3  she  kept  screaming,  They  say  I  must  not  go  in)  She  was 
pull'd  in;  where  she  was  no  sooner  got,  but  she  could  stand  on 
her  Feet,  and  with  an  alter'd  Note,  say,  Now  I  am  well. 

She  would  be  faint  at  first,  and  say,  She  felt  something  to  go  out  of 
her!  (the  Noises  whereof  we  sometimes  heard,  like  those  of  a  Mouse) , 
but  in  a  Minute  or  two  she  could  apply  her  self  to  Devotion, 
and  express  her  self  with  Discretion,  as  well  as  ever  in  her  Life. 

To  satisfie  some  Strangers,  the  Experiment  was  divers  times  with 
the  same  Success,  repeated;  until  my  Lothness  to  have  any  thing 
done  like  making  a  Charm  of  a  Room,  caus'd  me  to  forbid  the 
Repetition  of  it.  But  enough  of  this.  The  Ministers  of  Boston 
and  Charlstown,  kept  another  Day  of  Prayer  with  Fasting  for 
Goodwill's  afflicted  Family:  After  which,  the  Children  had  a 
Sensible,  but  a  Gradual  Abatement  of  their  Sorrows,  until  Perfect 
Ease  was  at  length  restor'd  unto  them.  The  young  Woman 
dwelt  at  my  House  the  rest  of  the  Winter;  having  by  a  vertuous 


234  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

Conversation  made  her  self  enough  welcome  to  the  Family.  But 
e'er  long,  I  thought  it  convenient  for  me  to  entertain  my  Congre 
gation  with  a  Sermon  on  the  memorable  Providences  wherein  these 
Children  had  been  concern'd  [afterwards  publish' d.]  When  I 
had  begun  to  study  my  Sermon,  her  Tormentors  again  seiz'd  upon 
her,  and  manag'd  her  with  a  special  Design,  as  was  plain,  to  dis 
turb  me  in  what  I  was  then  about. 

In  the  worst  of  her  Extravagancies  formerly,  she  was  more  dutiful 
to  my  self  than  I  had  reason  to  expect :  But  now  her  whole  Carriage 
to  me  was  with  a  Sawciness,  which  I  was  not  us'd  any  where  to  be 
treated  withal.  She  would  knock  at  my  Study  door,  affirming 
That  some  below  would  be  glad  to  see  me,  tho'  there  was  none  that 
ask'd  for  me :  And  when  I  chid  her  for  telling  what  was  false,  her 
Answer  was  Mrs  Mather  is  always  glad  to  see  you!  She  would 
call  to  me  with  numberless  Impertinencies :  And  when  I  came  down, 
she  would  throw  things  at  me,  tho'  none  of  them  could  ever  hurt 
me :  And  she  would  Hector  me  at  a  strange  rate  for  something  I 
was  doing  above,  and  threaten  me  with  Mischief  and  Reproach 
that  should  revenge  it.  Few  Tortures  now  attended  her,  but  such 
as  were  provok'd.  Her  Frolicks  were  numberless ;  if  we  may  call 
them  hers.  I  was  in  Latin  telling  some  young  Gentlemen,  That 
if  I  should  bid  her  look  to  God,  her  Eyes  would  be  put  out:  Upon 
which  her  Eyes  were  presently  serv'd  so.  Perceiving  that  her 
Troublers  understood  Latin,  some  Trials  were  thereupon  made 
whether  they  understood  Greek  and  Hebrew,  which  it  seems,  they 
also  did;  but  the  Indian  Languages  they  did  seem  not  so  well 
to  understand. 

When  we  went  unto  prayer,  the  Damons  wrould  throw  her  on  the 
Floor  at  the  Feet  of  him  that  pray'd,  where  she  would  whistle, 
and  sing,  and  yell,  to  drown  the  Voice  of  the  Prayer,  and  she  would 
fetch  Blows  with  her  Fist,  and  Kicks  with  her  Foot,  at  the  Man 
that  Pray'd:  But  still  her  Fist  and  Foot  would  always  recoyl, 
when  they  came  within  an  Inch  or  two  of  him,  as  if  rebounding 
against  a  Wall:  and  then  she  would  beg  hard  of  other  People  to 
strike  him,  which  (you  may  be  sure)  not  being  done,  she  cry'd 
out,  He  has  wounded  me  in  the  Head.  But  before  the  Prayer  was 
over,  she  would  be  laid  for  dead,  wholly  senseless,  and  (unto  ap 
pearance)  breathless,  with  her  Belly  swell'd  like  a  Drum;  And 


COTTON   MATHER  235 

sometimes  with  croaking  Noises  in  her.  Thus  wou'd  she  lie,  most 
exactly  with  the  Stiffness  and  Posture  of  one  that  had  been  two 
Days  laid  out  for  dead.  Once  lying  thus,  as  he  that  was  praying, 
was  alluding  to  the  Words  of  the  Canaanites,  and  saying,  Lord, 
have  mercy  on  a  Daughter  vex'd  with  a  Devil,  there  came  a  big, 
but  low  voice  from  her,  in  which  the  Spectators  did  not  see  her 
Mouth  to  move,  There's  two  or  three  of  us.  When  Prayer  was 
ended,  she  would  revive  in  a  Minute  or  two,  and  continue  as 
frolicksome  as  before. 


COTTON  MATHER  TO  GOVERNOR  DUDLEY 

Boston,  Jan.  20,  1707-8. 
Sir, 

There  have  appeared  such  things  in  your  conduct,  that  a  just 
concern  for  the  welfare  of  your  Excellency  seems  to  render  it 
necessary,  that  you  should  be  faithfully  advised  of  them.  It  was 
not  without  a  design  to  introduce  and  exercise  this  faithfulness, 
that  I  have  in  divers  letters  to  your  Excellency,  sought  out  accept 
able  words,  and  acknowledged  every  thing  in  the  world,  that  might 
at  all  dispose  you  to  give  me  the  hearing.  In  some  of  those  letters, 
I  have  indeed,  with  the  language  of  the  tribe  of  Naphtali,  insinuated 
unto  you,  what  those  points  were,  wherein  I  earnestly  desired  that 
we  might  observe  and  confess  you  laudable.  And  I  still  imagined 
that  you  would  at  the  same  time  understand  my  apprehension  of 
there  being  points,  wherein  you  were  too  defective.  But  your 
Excellency  compels  me  to  see  that  the  schemes  of  speaking  and 
modes  of  addressing  used  among  persons  of  the  most  polite  educa 
tion,  will  not  answer  the  expectation  I  have  had  of  them.  You 
will  give  me  leave  to  write  nothing,  but  in  a  style,  whereof  an 
ignorant  mob,  to  whom  (as  well  as  the  General  Assembly)  you  think 
fit  to  communicate  what  fragments  you  please  of  my  letters,  must 
be  competent  judges.  I  must  proceed  accordingly.  And  though 
I  may  complain  of  it,  that  the  letters,  wrhich  I  have  written  formerly 
to  your  Excellency,  have  been  improved  unto  my  damage;  yet  I 
will  now  venture  another,  which  if  it  may  be  for  your  service,  I 
care  not,  though  it  be  as  much  for  my  detriment  as  any  of  the  rest, 
and  exposed  as  an  appendix  unto  them.  A  letter  of  mine,  the  read- 


236  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

ing  whereof  to  K.  William  was  (as  I  have  heard)  of  some  small 
service  to  you  in  obtaining  his  royal  determination,  that  you  should 
have  his  commission  for  the  government,  brought  upon  me  an 
extreme  displeasure  in  the  country.  I  proposed  therein  to  return 
good  for  evil,  to  conquer  evil  with  good,  and  retaliate  (in  my  own 
way)  the  venoms  which  you  poured  upon  me,  in  your  last  confer 
ence  with  my  father,  at  your  leaving  New  England.  And  if  I 
never  saw  after  this  an  expression  of  your  gratitude,  yet  I  saw  all 
that  I  proposed.  However,  to  hand  such  a  gross  untruth  about  the 
country,  as  a  report  (which  I  hear  some  of  your  counsellors  do  as 
from  you)  that  at  the  time  of  my  writing  that  letter,  I  wrote  another 
quite  the  contrary,  to  do  you  a  disservice,  is  but  a  very  mean  re 
quital. 

When  that  letter  was  written,  I  weakly  believed  that  the  wicked 
and  horrid  things  done  before  the  righteous  revolution,  had  been 
heartily  repented  of;  and  that  the  rueful  business  at  New  York, 
which  many  illustrious  persons  of  both  houses  of  parliament  often 
called  a  barbarous  murder,  and  which  the  king,  lords  and  com 
mons,  by  an  act  of  parliament  invited  all  persons  to  think  so,  had 
been  considered  with  such  a  repentance,  as  might  save  you  and 
your  family  from  any  further  storms  of  heaven  for  the  revenging 
of  it.  I  flattered  myself  with  a  belief,  that  you  would  know  no 
interests  but  those  of  a  glorious  Christ,  and  of  his  people  and  king 
dom,  and  study  what  you  should  render  to  him  for  his  wonderful 
dispensations  towards  you,  in  restoring  you  to  your  family,  with  the 
government  of  a  people,  with  whom  you  had  been  in  such  evil 
circumstances.  The  whole  country  were  witnesses  to  some  of  my 
poor  and  plain  endeavours,  to  do  the  part  of  &  faithful  monitor 
unto  you,  in  the  portraiture  of  a  good  man,  at  your  arrival.  Sir, 
had  you  then  received  your  government  with  serious  and  thankful 
considerations,  perpetually  carried  on,  how  to  discharge  it  as  a 
stewardship  for  the  glorious  Lord,  and  how  to  make  this  an  holy 
and  an  happy  people ;  and  resolution  in  it  to  do  nothing  but  what 
should  be  just  and  good;  how  honourably,  how  comfortably  would 
your  government  have  at  last  expired !  Your  late  epitaph  would 
have  been,  Them  that  honour  me,  I  will  honour.  And  in  the  mean 
time,  you  would  not  have  known  the  meaning  of  a  troubled  sea. 
You  might  have  maintained  a  very  inoffensive  conduct  towards  the 


COTTON  MATHER  237 

gentlemen  of  whom  most  of  all  you  have  stood  in  fear :  or  if  they 
had  been  uneasy,  the  great  God  would  have  accomplished  for  you 
the  word  which  the  Emperor  Maximilian  wrote  upon  his  tables : 
whereas  now,  they  are  the  very  persons  by  whose  means  most  of 
all  your  fear  is  like  to  come  upon  you.  It  seems  as  if  the  glorious 
Lord  had  a  controversy  with  you.  He  has  raised  you  up  very 
powerful  enemies.  The  best  office  of  love  that  can  be  done  for 
you,  is,  to  assist  you  that  your  ways  may  please  the  glorious  Lord, 
and  remind  you  wherein  you  have  not  pleased  him. 

Sir,  your  snare  has  been  that  thing,  the  hatred  whereof  is  most 
expressly  required  of  the  ruler,  namely  COVETOUSXESS.  When  a 
governour  shall  make  his  government  more  an  engine  to  enrich 
himself,  than  to  befriend  his  country,  and  shall  by  the  unhallowed 
hunger  of  riches  be  prevailed  withal  to  do  many  wrong,  base, 
dishonourable  things;  it  is  a  covetousness  which  will  shut  out 
from  the  kingdom  of  heaven;  and  sometimes  the  loss  of  a  govern 
ment  on  earth  also  is  the  punishment  of  it.  Now,  Sir,  much  of 
this  has  appeared  in  your  administration;  and  the  disposition 
to  make  haste  to  be  rich  has  betrayed  you  unto  things,  from  which 
many  have  wondered,  that  the  natural  goodness,  which  they  thought 
was  in  your  temper,  has  not  restrained  you. 


SAMUEL   SEWALL 

[Samuel  Sewall  was  born  in  England  in  1652,  and  died  in  Massachusetts 
in  1730.  His  grandparents  were  residents  of  America,  and  his  parents  had 
been  married  in  this  country,  though  they  lived  in  England  during  his  early 
boyhood.  He  was  graduated  from  Harvard  in  1671,  and  became  a  resident 
fellow  of  the  college  and  for  a  time  keeper  of  the  college  library.  He  studied 
for  the  ministry,  but  finally  decided  to  enter  business.  During  almost  all  his 
life  he  was  prominent  in  public  affairs.  As  one  of  the  Salem  witch-judges, 
he  was  vigorous  in  performing  what  he  thought  to  be  his  duty.  But  when, 
five  years  later,  he  had  become  convinced  of  his  mistake,  he  caused  his  famous 
Bill  to  be  read  in  the  public  congregation,  while  he  stood  with  bowed  head  in 
token  of  penitence.  This  action,  which  for  a  time  cost  him  the  friendship 
of  the  Mathers  and  others  of  his  old  associates,  has  done  much  to  heighten 
the  respect  with  which  he  has  been  deservedly  held  by  later  generations. 

Judge  Sewall's  voluminous  "Diary,"  which  was  begun  in  1673,  when  he 
was  still  a  student  at  Harvard,  and  continued  until  1729,  just  before  his 
death,  is  one  of  the  most  readable  and  valuable  writings  of  the  colonial  time. 
It  gives  a  picture  of  the  political  and  social  life  of  a  half  century,  as  it  ap 
peared  to  an  alert  man  of  affairs;  and  it  reveals  with  perfect  frankness  the 
personality  of  the  author.  Like  all  works  of  the  kind,  it  cannot  be  adequately 
represented  by  selections.  In  the  following  pages  the  Diary  for  January, 
1701,  contains  a  sufficient  number  of  consecutive  entries  to  give  a  slight  idea 
of  the  whole;  and  the  other  selections  are  detached  passages  of  special  in 
terest.  Judge  Sewall  was  three  times  married,  and  in  the  intervals  of  his 
widowhood  conducted  several  unsuccessful  courtships.  The  propriety  of 
publishing  the  parts  of  the  "Diary"  in  which  these  are  recounted  may  well 
be  questioned,  but  since  they  have  been  made  public,  a  few  entries  are  given 
regarding  the  most  famous  of  these  unfortunate  love  affairs.  In  his  lifetime 
Judge  Sewall  published  only  a  few  pamphlets,  including  "The  Selling  of 
Joseph,"  said  to  be  the  first  anti-slavery  tract  issued  in  America,  and  "Phae- 
nomena  quaedam  Apocalyptica  ad  Aspectum  Novi  Orbis  configurata.  Or, 
some  few  Lines  towards  a  description  of  the  New  Heaven  as  It  makes  to 
those  who  stand  upon  the  New  Earth."  This  last  aims  to  prove  from  the 
more  mystical  prophecies  of  the  Bible  that  America  may  be  the  seat  of  the 
New  Jerusalem;  and  shows  something  of  the  minute  study  of  the  Scriptures 
which  formed  one  of  the  author's  chief  avocations  throughout  his  life.  His 
"Diary,"  his  "Letter-Book,"  and  some  other  manuscripts  have  been  pub 
lished  by  the  Massachusetts  Historical  Society. 

The  selections  from  the  "Diary"  are  from  the  Collections  of  the  Massa 
chusetts  Historical  Society,  Fifth  Series.  The  passage  from  "Phaenomena 
quaedam  Apocalyptica"  is  from  the  second  edition,  Boston,  1727.] 

238 


SAMUEL  SEWALL  239 

DISCIPLINE    AT    HARVARD    COLLEGE    IN    1674 
[From  the  "Diary"] 

Thomas  Sargeant  was  examined  by  the  Corporation:  finally, 
the  advice  of  Mr.  Danforth,  Mr.  Stoughton,  Mr.  Thatcher,  Mr. 
Mather,  (then  present)  was  taken.  This  was  his  sentence. 

That  being  convicted  of  speaking  blasphemous  words  concern 
ing  the  H.  G.  he  should  be  therefore  publickly  whipped  before  all 
the  Scholars.  2.  That  he  should  be  suspended  as  to  taking  his 
degree  of  Bachelour  (this  sentence  read  before  him  twice  at  the 
Prts.  before  the  committee,  and  in  the  library  i  up  before  execu 
tion)  .  3 .  Sit  alone  by  himself  in  the  Hall  uncovered  at  meals,  during 
the  pleasure  of  the  President  and  Fellows,  and  be  in  all  things  obe 
dient,  doing  what  exercise  was  appointed  him  by  the  President,  or 
else  be  finally  expelled  the  Colledge.  The  first  was  presently  put 
in  execution  in  the  Library  (Mr.  Danforth,  Jr.  being  present) 
before  the  Scholars.  He  kneeled  down  and  the  instrument  Good 
man  Hely  attended  the  President's  word  as  to  the  performance  of 
his  part  of  the  work.  Prayer  was  had  before  and  after  by  the 
President. 

JUDGE  SEWALL'S  PETITION  OF  PENITENCE 

[From  the  "Diary"  for  169*] 

Copy  of  the  Bill  I  put  up  on  the  Fast  day;  giving  it  to  Mr. 
Willard  as  he  pass'd  by,  and  standing  up  at  the  reading  of  it,  and 
bowing  when  finished ;  in  the  Afternoon. 

Samuel  Sewall,  sensible  of  the  reiterated  strokes  of  God  upon 
himself  and  family;  and  being  sensible,  that  as  to  the  guilt  con 
tracted  upon  the  opening  of  the  late  Commission  of  Oyer  and  Ter- 
miner  at  Salem  (to  which  the  order  for  this  Day  relates)  he  is, 
upon  many  accounts,  more  concerned  than  any  that  he  knows  of, 
Desires  to  take  the  Blame  and  shame  of  it,  Asking  pardon  of  men, 
And  especially  desiring  prayers  that  God,  who  has  an  Unlimited 
Authority,  would  pardon  that  sin  and  all  other  his  sins ;  personal 
and  Relative:  And  according  to  his  infinite  Benignity,  and  Sover 
eignty,  Not  Visit  the  sin  of  him,  or  of  any  other,  upon  himself 


240  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

or  any  of  his,  nor  upon  the  Land:  But  that  He  would  power 
fully  defend  him  against  all  Temptations  to  Sin,  for  the  future; 
and  vouchsafe  him  the  efficacious,  saving  Conduct  of  his  Word 
and  Spirit. 

THE  EVENTS  OF  A  MONTH 

[From  the  "Diary"] 


Jany.  i.  £$$.  Just  about  Break-a-day  Jacob  Amsden  and  3 
other  Trumpeters  gave  a  Blast  with  the  Trumpets  on  the  common 
near  Mr.  Alford's  [in  Margin,  —  Entrance  of  the  i8th  Century]. 
Then  went  to  the  Green  Chamber,  and  sounded  there  till  about 
sunrise.  Bellman  said  these  verses  a  little  before  Break-a-day, 
which  I  printed  and  gave  them,  [in  Margin  —  My  verses  upon 
New  Century.] 

Once  more  !  our  God  vouchsafe  to  shine  : 
Correct  the  Coldness  of  our  Clime. 
Make  haste  with  thy  Impartial  Light, 
And  terminate  this  long  dark  night. 

Give  the  poor  Indians  Eyes  to  see 
The  Light  of  Life:  and  set  them  free. 
So  Men  shall  God  in  Christ  adore, 
And  worship  Idols  vain,  no  more. 

So  Asia,  and  Africa, 

Eur6pa,  with  America; 

All  Four,  in  Consort  join'd,  shall  Sing 

New  Songs  of  Praise  to  Christ  our  King. 

The  Trumpeters  cost  me  five  pieces  f  .  Gave  to  the  College- 
Library  Dr.  Owens  two  last  Volumes  on  the  Hebrews.  Sent  them 
by  Amsden.  When  was  about  to  part  with  Dr.  Owen,  I  look'd,  to 
read  some  difficult  place;  pitch'd  on  v.  nth  of  the  8th  Chapter  — 
Know  the  Lord  —  I  read  it  over  and  over  one  time  and  another 
and  could  not  be  satisfied  :  At  last  this  came  in  my  mind  Know  the 
Lord,  i.e.  Know  the  Messiah,  to  whom  the  word  Lord  is  very 
much  appropriated  &c.  vide  locum.  Now  my  mind  was  at  quiet, 
and  all  seem'd  to  run  smooth.  As  I  hope  this  is  Truth,  so  I  bless 


SAMUEL  SEWALL  241 

God  for  this  New-years  Gift;  which  I  also  writt  in  a  spare  place, 
and  gave  it  with  the  Book  to  the  College. 

Satterday,  Jany.  4  y^i  .  Mrs.  Thair  is  this  morn  taken  with  an 
Apoplexy  after  she  had  been  up  and  employ'd  a  while  ;  was  at  our 
pump  for  water.  Dies  about  six  in  the  Evening. 

Between  2  and  3  in  the  Afternoon  Mr.  Sergeant,  Col.  Townsend, 
and  I  take  the  Affidavits  of  Barth.  Green,  Jno.  Allen  and  Timo. 
Green.  Present  Mr.  T.  Brattle,  Mr.  Mico,  and  Tuthil  notified. 
Mr.  Nathl.  Oliver,  Air.  Hern,  Mr.  Keeling:  Mr.  Hirst  and  my 
Son.  I  do  not  remember  any  more.  Mr.  Keeling,  upon  enquiry, 
what  he  call'd  for  pen  and  Ink  for,  whether  twas  to  take  notes  or 
no:  He  own'd  it  was.  Then  I  said  I  would  also  send  for  one  to 
write,  naming  Mr.  Barnard;  so  he  forebore,  and  said  he  would  not 
write. 

Jany.  7th.  Mrs.  Thair  is  buried:  By  reason  of  the  Court, 
Stars  were  seen  before  we  went;  but  comfortably  Light  by  re 
mains  of  the  Day.  Moon-shine  and  Snow. 

Bearers,  Cook,  Sewall,  Addington,  Oakes,  Melyen,  Maryon, 
Jno.  Buried  in  the  new  burying  place,  close  to  the  Alms-house 
Ground. 

Friday,  Jany.  10.  i™?.  Mr.  John  Wait  came  to  me,  and  earn 
estly  desired  me  to  hasten  consummating  the  Marriage  between  his 
Bastian  and  Jane,  Mrs.  Thair's  Negro.  This  day  I  waited  upon 
the  Lt.  Governour  at  Dorchester  and  spent  about  two  hours  in 
looking  over  and  ordering  Corporation  Bonds,  but  brought  none 
away  with  me.  I  shewed  Mr.  Green's  paper,  and  asked  his 
Honor's  Leave  to  use  his  Name.  Shew'd  it  in  the  morn  to  Col. 
Townsend  at  his  own  house,  and  to  Mr.  Sergeant  at  his,  the  night 
before.  I  had  promised  that  nothing  should  be  tack'd  to  their 
Names,  but  they  should  first  have  a  sight  of  it. 


Boston,  Jany.  13 

Madam,  —  The  inclosed  piece  of  Silver,  by  its  bowing,  humble  form 
bespeaks  your  Favor  for  a  certain  young  Man  in  Town.  The  Name  [Real] 
the  Motto  [Plus  ultra]  seem  to  plead  its  suitableness  for  a  Present  of  this 
Nature.  Neither  need  you  to  except  against  the  quantity  :  for  you  have  the 
Mends  in  your  own  hand  ;  And  by  your  generous  Acceptance,  you  may  make 
both  it  and  the  Giver  Great. 

Madam,  I  am 

Your  Affect.  Friend  S.  S. 


242  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

Jany.  i4th.  Having  been  certified  last  night  about  10  oclock  of 
the  death  of  my  dear  Mother  at  Newbury,  Sam.  and  I  set  out  with 
John  Sewall,  the  Messenger,  for  that  place.  Hired  Horses  at 
Charlestown:  set  out  about  10.  aclock  in  a  great  Fogg.  Din'd 
at  Lewis's  with  Mr.  Gushing  of  Salisbury.  Sam  and  I  kept  on  in 
Ipswich  Rode,  John  went  to  accompany  Bro.  from  Salem.  About 
Mr.  Hubbard's  in  Ipswich  farms,  they  overtook  us.  Sam.  and  I 
lodg'd  at  Cromp ton's  in  Ipswich.  Bro.  and  John  stood  on  for 
Newbury  by  Moon-shine.  Jany.  i5th  Sam.  and  I  set  forward. 
Brother  Northend  meets  us.  Visit  Aunt  Northend,  Mr.  Payson. 
With  Bro.  and  sister  we  set  forward  for  Newbury :  where  we  find 
that  day  appointed  for  the  Funeral:  twas  a  very  pleasant  Com 
fortable  day. 

Bearers,  Jno.  Kent  of  the  Island,  Lt.  Cutting  Noyes,  Deacon 
William  Noyes,  Mr.  Peter  Tappan,  Capt.  Henry  Somersby,  Mr. 
Joseph  Woolbridge.  I  follow'd  the  Bier  single.  Then  Bro. 
Sewall  and  sister  Jane,  Bro.  Short  and  his  wife,  Bro.  Moodey 
and  his  wife,  Bro.  Northend  and  his  wife,  Bro.  Tappan  and 
sister  Sewall,  Sam.  and  cous.  Hannah  Tappan.  Mr.  Payson  of 
Rowley,  Mr.  Clark,  Minister  of  Excester,  were  there.  Col. 
Pierce,  Major  Noyes  &c.  Cous.  John,  Richard  and  Betty  Dummer. 
Went  abt.  4.  p.  m.  Nathanl.  Bricket  taking  in  hand  to  fill  the 
Grave,  I  said,  Forbear  a  little,  and  suffer  me  to  say  That  amidst 
our  bereaving  sorrows  We  have  the  Comfort  of  beholding  this 
Saint  put  into  the  rightfull  possession  of  that  Happiness  of  Living 
desir'd  and  dying  Lamented.  She  liv'd  commendably  Four  and 
Fifty  years  with  her  dear  Husband,  and  my  dear  Father :  And  she 
could  not  well  brook  the  being  divided  from  him  at  her  death; 
which  is  the  cause  of  our  taking  leave  of  her  in  this  place.  She 
was  a  true  and  constant  Lover  of  Gods  Word,  Worship,  and  Saints : 
And  she  always,  with  a  patient  cheerfullness,  submitted  to  the 
divine  Decree  of  providing  Bread  for  her  self  and  others  in  the 
sweat  of  her  Brows.  And  now  her  infinitely  Gracious  and  Bounti 
ful  Master  has  promoted  her  to  the  Honor  of  higher  Employments, 
fully  and  absolutely  discharged  from  all  manner  of  Toil,  and  Sweat. 
My  honoured  and  beloved  Friends  and  Neighbours!  My  dear 
Mother  never  thought  much  of  doing  the  most  frequent  and  homely 
offices  of  Love  for  me;  and  lavish'd  away  many  Thousands  of 


SAMUEL  SEW  ALL 


243 


Words  upon  me,  before  I  could  return  one  word  in  Answer:  And 
therefore  I  ask  and  hope  that  none  will  be  offended  that  I  have 
now  ventured  to  speak  one  wrord  in  her  behalf;  when  shee  her 
self  is  become  speechless.  Made  a  Motion  with  my  hand  for  the 
filling  of  the  Grave.  Note,  I  could  hardly  speak  for  passion  and 
Tears.  Mr.  Tappan  pray'd  with  us  in  the  evening.  I  lodg'd 
at  sister  Gerrishes  with  Joseph.  Bro.  and  Sam.  at  Br.  Tappans. 
Jany.  i6th.  The  two  Brothers  and  four  sisters  being  together, 
we  took  Leave  by  singing  of  the  goth  Psalm,  from  the  8th  to  the 
1 5th  verse  inclusively.  Mr.  Brown  the  Scholar,  was  present.  Set 
out  abt.  ii  for  Ipswich,  got  time  enough  to  hear  Mr.  Rogers  preach 
the  Lecture  from  Luke  i.  76.  about  ministerial  preparation  for 
Christ.  Sung  the  nine  first  verses  of  the  132.  Psalm.  Mr.  Rogers 
prai'd  for  the  prisoner  of  death,  the  Newbury  woman  who  was  there 
in  her  chains.  This  is  the  last  Sermon  preached  in  the  old  Meeting 
house.  Eat  Roost  Fowl  at  Crompton's.  Delivered  a  Letter  to 
the  Widow  Hale;  got  very  comfortably  over  the  Ferry  to  Brothers, 
whether  Mr.  Hirst  quickly  came  to  welcome  us  and  invite  us  to 
dine  or  breakfast  next  day,  which  we  did,  the  morning  being  cold : 
Visited  Madam  Bradstreet  and  Major  Brown,  and  told  them  of 
the  death  of  their  fellow-passenger.  Rec'd  me  very  courteously. 
Took  horse  about  one  p.  m.  Baited  at  Lewis's ;  Stop'd  at  Govr. 
Usher's  to  pay  him  a  visit.  He  and  his  Lady  being  from  home, 
we  pass'd  on,  and  got  to  Charlestown  about  Sun-set,  very  com 
fortably.  Found  all  well  at  home  through  the  Goodness  of 
God. 

Lords-Day,  Jany.  2pth.  yf&f-.  Ipswich  people  Meet  the  first 
time  in  their  New-Meeting-House,  as  Deacon  Knowlton  informs 
me  at  Cousin  Savages  Meeting  Jany.  22th. 

Jany.  2Qth  j-fff.  Sam  and  I  went  to  Dedham  Lecture,  and 
heard  Mr.  Belchar  preach  excellently  from  Mat.  9.  12.  Dined 
at  said  Belchars.  Gave  him  and  some  young  men  with  him 
my  New-years  verses:  He  read  them  and  said  Amen.  Said 
twas  a  good  Morning's  W7ork. 

Jany.  30.  Mr.  Willard  preaches  from  Eccles.  9.  2.  —  he  that 
sweareth  and  he  that  feareth  an  Oath.  Spoke  very  closely  against 
the  many  ways  of  Swearing  amiss.  Great  Storm. 


244  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

A  NEIGHBORLY  ADMONITION 

[From  the  "Diary"  for  1701] 

Tuesday,  June  loth.  Having  last  night  heard  that  Josiah 
Willard  had  cut  off  his  hair  (a  very  full  head  of  hair)  and  put  on 
a  Wigg,  I  went  to  him  this  morning.  Told  his  Mother  what  I  came 
about,  and  she  call'd  him.  I  enquired  of  him  what  Extremity  had 
forced  him  to  put  off  his  own  hair,  and  put  on  a  Wigg?  He 
answered,  none  at  all.  But  said  that  his  Hair  was  streight,  and 
that  it  parted  behinde.  Seem'd  to  argue  that  men  might  as  well 
shave  their  hair  off  their  head,  as  off  their  face.  I  answered  men 
were  men  before  they  had  hair  on  their  faces,  (half  of  mankind 
have  never  any).  God  seems  to  have  ordain'd  our  Hair  as  a  Test, 
to  see  whether  we  can  bring  our  minds  to  be  content  to  be  at  his 
finding:  or  whether  we  would  be  our  own  Carvers,  Lords,  and 
come  no  more  at  Him.  If  disliked  our  Skin,  or  Nails;  'tis  no 
thanks  to  us,  that  for  all  that,  we  cut  them  not  off:  Pain  and 
danger  restrain  us.  Your  Calling  is  to  teach  men  self  Denial. 
Twill  be  displeasing  and  burdensom  to  good  men:  And  they 
that  care  not  what  men  think  of  them  care  not  what  God  thinks 
of  them.  Father,  Bro.  Simon,  Mr.  Pemberton,  Mr.  Wigglesworth, 
Oakes,  Noyes  (Oliver),  Brattle  of  Cambridge  their  example. 
Allow  me  to  be  so  far  a  Censor  Morum  for  this  end  of  the  Town. 
Pray'd  him  to  read  the  Tenth  Chapter  of  the  Third  book  of 
Calvins  Institutions.  I  read  it  this  morning  in  course,  not  of 
choice.  Told  him  that  it  was  condemn'd  by  a  Meeting  of  Minis 
ters  at  Northampton  in  Mr.  Stoddards  house,  when  the  said 
Josiah  was  there.  Told  him  of  the  Solemnity  of  the  Covenant 
which  he  and  I  had  lately  enterd  into,  which  put  me  upon  dis 
coursing  to  him.  He  seem'd  to  say  would  leave  off  his  Wigg 
when  his  hair  was  grown.  I  spake  to  his  Father  of  it  a  day  or  two 
after:  He  thank'd  me  that  had  discoursed  his  Son,  and  told 
me  that  when  his  hair  was  grown  to  cover  his  ears,  he  promis'd 
to  leave  off  his  Wigg.  If  he  had  known  of  it,  would  have  forbid 
den  him.  His  Mother  heard  him  talk  of  it ;  but  was  afraid  positively 
to  forbid  him;  lest  he  should  do  it,  and  so  be  more  faulty. 


SAMUEL   SEW  ALL  245 

MEDITATION  AND   PRAYER 

[From  the  "Diary"] 

Febr.  28.  lyif  Midweek:  This  being  my  Marriage-day,  and 
having  now  liv'd  in  a  married  Estate  Five  and  Thirty  years,  not 
withstanding  my  many  Sins  and  Temptations,  I  spent  some  time 
in  Meditation  and  Prayer  in  the  Castle-Chamber.  I  was  much 
encouraged  by  reading  in  Course  the  32d.  Psalm  at  family  prayer 
without  any  foresight  of  mine.  And  when  I  came  to  pray  I  was 
much  heartened  to  ask  Forgiveness  of  God  for  my  multiplied 
Transgressions,  seeing  He  had  directed  Peter  a  sinfull  Mortal 
to  forgive  70.  times  7.  I  hope  God  will  forgive  and  do  as  the 
matter  may  require.  While  I  was  thus  employ'd  Maxwell  warned 
me  to  Council;  but  I  ventur'd  to  keep  in  my  Closet;  and  I  un 
derstand  by  the  Majr.  Genl.  they  did  nothing  in  Council.  Majr. 
Genl.  and  his  Lady  visited  us  just  before  the  Funeral.  Bearers 
of  Mrs.  Allen  were,  Elisha  Hutchinson,  Saml.  Sewall ;  Giles  Dyer, 
Saml.  Checkley;  John  Cutler,  Saml.  Phillips:  Scarves  and 
Gloves.  Whiles  I  was  Spending  a  little  Fewel  in  privat  Devotion 
I  was  supply 'd  with  a  great  Penni worth  of  Bast  by  Bastian,  and 
a  Load  of  black  Oak  by  Nathl.  Sparhawk. 

A  LOVE-LETTER  AND  SOME  VISITS  OF  COURTSHIP 

[From  the  "Diary"  for  1720] 

[i] 

8r.  nth.  I  writ  a  few  Lines  to  Madam  Winthrop  to  this  pur 
pose:  "Madam,  These  wait  on  you  with  Mr.  Mayhew's  Sermon, 
and  Account  of  the  state  of  the  Indians  on  Martha's  Vinyard. 
I  thank  you  for  your  Unmerited  Favours  of  yesterday ;  and  hope 
to  have  the  Happiness  of  Waiting  on  you  to-morrow  before  Eight 
a-clock  after  Noon.  I  pray  GOD  to  keep  you,  and  give  you  a  joy- 
full  entrance  upon  the  Two  Hundred  and  twenty  ninth  year  of 
Christopher  Columbus  his  Discovery;  and  take  Leave,  who  am, 
Madam,  your  humble  Servt.  S.  S. 

Sent  this  by  Deacon  Green,  who  deliver'd  it  to  Sarah  Chicker- 
ing,  her  Mistress  not  being  at  home. 


246  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

ST.  12.  Give  Mr.  Whittemore  and  Willard  their  Oath  to  Dr. 
Mather's  Inventory.  Visit  Mr.  Cooper.  Go  to  the  Meeting  at 
the  Wido  Emon's :  Mr.  Manly  pray'd,  I  read  half  Mr.  Henry's  i2th 
Chapter  of  the  L.  Supper.  Sung  i.,  2,  3,  4,  5,  10,  and  i2th 
Verses  of  the  3oth  Psalm.  Bro.  Franklin  concluded  with  Prayer. 
At  Madm.  Winthrop's  Steps  I  took  leave  of  Capt  Hill,  &c. 

Mrs.  Anne  Cotton  came  to  door  (twas  before  8.)  said  Madam 
Winthrop  was  within,  directed  me  into  the  little  Room,  where  she 
was  full  of  work  behind  a  Stand ;  Mrs.  Cotton  came  in  and  stood. 
Madam  Winthrop  pointed  to  her  to  set  me  a  Chair.  Madam 
Winthrop's  Countenance  was  much  changed  from  what  'twas  on 
Monday,  look'd  dark  and  lowering.  At  last,  the  work,  (black 
stuff  or  Silk)  was  taken  away,  I  got  my  Chair  in  place,  had  some 
Converse,  but  very  Cold  and  indifferent  to  what  'twas  before. 
Ask'd  her  to  acquit  me  of  Rudeness  if  I  drew  off  her  Glove.  En 
quiring  the  reason,  I  told  her  twas  great  odds  between  handling 
a  dead  Goat,  and  a  living  Lady.  Got  it  off.  I  told  her  I  had  one 
Petition  to  ask  of  her,  that  was,  that  she  would  take  off  the  Nega 
tive  she  laid  on  me  the  third  of  October;  She  readily  answer'd 
she  could  not,  and  enlarg'd  upon  it ;  She  told  me  of  it  so  soon  as 
she  could;  could  not  leave  her  house,  children,  neighbours,  busi 
ness.  I  told  her  she  might  do  some  Good  to  help  and  support  me. 
Mentioning  Mrs.  Gookin,  Nath,  the  widow  Weld  was  spoken  of; 
said  I  had  visited  Mrs.  Denison.  I  told  her  Yes !  Afterward  I 
said,  If  after  a  first  and  second  Vagary  she  would  Accept  of  me 
returning,  Her  Victorious  Kindness  and  Good  Will  would  be  very 
Obliging.  She  thank'd  me  for  my  Book,  (Mr.  Mayhew's  Sermon), 
But  said  not  a  word  of  the  Letter.  When  she  insisted  on  the 
Negative,  I  pray'd  there  might  be  no  more  Thunder  and  Lighten 
ing,  I  should  not  sleep  all  night.  I  gave  her  Dr.  Preston,  The 
Church's  Marriage  and  the  Church's  Carriage,  which  cost  me 
6s.  at  the  Sale.  The  door  standing  open,  Mr.  Airs  came  in, 
hung  up  his  Hat,  and  sat  down.  After  awhile,  Madam  Winthrop 
moving  ,  he  went  out.  Jno.  Eyre  look'd  in,  I  said  How  do  ye,  or, 
your  servant  Mr.  Eyre:  but  heard  no  word  from  him.  Sarah 
fill'd  a  Glass  of  Wine,  she  drank  to  me,  I  to  her,  She  sent  Juno 
home  with  me  with  a  good  Lantern,  I  gave  her  6d.  and  bid  her 
thank  her  Mistress.  In  some  of  our  Discourse,  I  told  her  I  had 


SAMUEL  SEW  ALL  247 

rather  go  to  the  Stone-House  adjoining  to  her,  than  to  come  to 
her  against  her  mind.  Told  her  the  reason  why  I  came  every  other 
night  was  lest  I  should  drink  too  deep  draughts  of  Pleasure. 
She  had  talk'd  of  Canary,  her  Kisses  were  to  me  better  than  the 
best  Canary.  Explain  'd  the  expression  Concerning  Columbus. 


8r.  21  Friday,  My  Son,  the  Minister,  came  to  me  p.m.  by  ap 
pointment  and  we  pray  one  for  another  in  the  Old  Chamber; 
more  especially  respecting  my  Courtship.  About  6.  a-clock  I  go 
to  Madam  Winthrop's  ;  Sarah  told  me  her  Mistress  was  gon  out, 
but  did  not  tell  me  whither  she  went.  She  presently  order'd  me 
a  Fire;  so  I  went  in,  having  Dr.  Sibb's  Bowels  with  me  to  read. 
I  read  the  two  first  Sermons,  still  no  body  came  in  :  at  last  about 
9.  a-clock  Mr.  Jno.  Eyre  came  in;  I  took  the  opportunity  to  say 
to  him  as  I  had  done  to  Mrs.  Noyes  before,  that  I  hoped  my 
Visiting  his  Mother  would  not  be  disagreeable  to  him  ;  He  answered 
me  with  much  Respect.  When  twas  after  9.  a-clock  He  of  him 
self  said  he  would  go  and  call  her,  she  was  but  at  one  of  his 
Brothers  :  A  while  after  I  heard  Madam  Winthrop's  voice,  enquir 
ing  somthing  about  John.  After  a  good  while  and  Clapping 
the  Garden  door  twice  or  thrice,  she  came  in.  I  mention'd 
somthing  of  the  lateness  ;  she  banter'd  me,  and  said  I  was  later. 
She  receiv'd  me  Courteously.  I  ask'd  when  our  proceedings 
should  be  made  publick  :  She  said  They  were  like  to  be  no  more 
publick  than  they  were  already.  Offer'd  me  no  Wine  that  I 
remember.  I  rose  up  at  n  a-clock  to  come  away,  saying  I 
would  put  on  my  Coat,  She  offer'd  not  to  help  me.  I  pray'd 
her  that  Juno  might  light  me  home,  she  open'd  the  Shutter,  and 
said  twas  pretty  light  abroad;  Juno  was  weary  and  gon  to  bed. 
So  I  came  home  by  Star-light  as  well  as  I  could.  At  my  first 
coming  in,  I  gave  Sarah  five  Shillings.  I  writ  Mr.  Eyre  his  name 
in  his  Book  with  the  date  Octobr.  21,  1720.  It  cost  me  8s. 
Jehovah  jireh  !  Madam  told  me  she  had  visited  M.  Mico,  Wen 
dell,  and  Wm.  Clark  of  the  South. 

Octobr.  22.  Daughter  Cooper  visited  me  before  my  going  out 
of  Town,  staid  till  about  Sun  set.  I  brought  her  going  near  as 


248  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

far  as  the  Orange  Tree.  Coming  back,  near  Leg's  Corner,  Little 
David  Jeffries  saw  me,  and  looking  upon  me  very  lovingly,  ask'd 
me  if  I  was  going  to  see  his  Grandmother  ?  I  said,  Not  to-night. 
Gave  him  a  peny,  and  bid  him  present  my  Service  to  his  Grand 
mother. 

Octobr.  24.  I  went  in  the  Hackny  Coach  through  the  Com 
mon,  stop'd  at  Madam  Winthrop's  (had  told  her  I  would  take 
my  departure  from  thence).  Sarah  came  to  the  door  with  Katee 
in  her  Arms:  but  I  did  not  think  to  take  notice  of  the  Child. 
Call'd  her  Mistress.  I  told  her,  being  encourag'd  by  David 
Jeffries  loving  eyes,  and  sweet  Words,  I  was  come  to  enquire 
whether  she  could  find  in  her  heart  to  leave  that  House  and 
Neighbourbood,  and  go  and  dwell  with  me  at  the  South-end; 
I  think  she  said  softly,  Not  yet.  I  told  her  It  did  not  ly  in  my 
Lands  to  keep  a  Coach.  If  I  should,  I  should  be  in  danger  to 
be  brought  to  keep  company  with  her  Neighbour  Brooker,  (he 
was  a  little  before  sent  to  prison  for  Debt).  Told  her  I  had 
an  Antipathy  against  those  who  would  pretend  to  give  themselves ; 
but  nothing  of  their  Estate.  I  would  a  proportion  of  my  Estate 
with  my  self.  And  I  supposed  she  would  do  so.  As  to  a  Perriwig, 
My  best  and  greatest  Friend,  I  could  not  possibly  have  a  greater, 
began  to  find  me  with  Hair  before  I  was  born,  and  had  continued 
to  do  so  ever  since;  and  I  could  not  find  in  my  heart  to  go  to 
another.  She  commended  the  book  I  gave  her,  Dr.  Preston,  the 
Church  Marriage;  quoted  him  saying  'twas  inconvenient  keep 
ing  out  of  a  Fashion  commonly  used.  I  said  the  Time  and  Tide 
did  circumscribe  my  Visit.  She  gave  me  a  Dram  of  Black-Cherry 
Brandy,  and  gave  me  a  lump  of  the  Sugar  that  was  in  it.  She 
wish'd  me  a  good  Journy.  I  pray'd  God  to  keep  her,  and  came 
away.  Had  a  very  pleasant  Journy  to  Salem. 

[mi 

Monday,  Novr.  ;th.  My  Son  pray'd  in  the  Old  Chamber. 
Our  time  had  been  taken  up  by  Son  and  Daughter  Cooper's 
Visit;  so  that  I  only  read  the  i3oth  and  143.  Psalm.  Twas  on 
the  Account  of  my  Courtship.  I  went  to  Mad.  Winthrop ;  found 
her  rocking  her  little  Katee  in  the  Cradle.  I  excus'd  my  Coming 


SAMUEL  SEW  ALL  249 

so  late  (near  Eight).  She  set  me  an  arm'd  Chair  and  Cusheon; 
and  so  the  Cradle  was  between  her  arm'd  Chair  and  mine.  Gave 
her  the  remnant  of  my  Almonds ;  She  did  not  eat  of  them  as  be 
fore;  but  laid  them  away;  I  said  I  came  to  enquire  whether  she 
had  alter'd  her  mind  since  Friday,  or  remained  of  the  same  mind 
still.  She  said,  Thereabouts.  I  told  her  I  loved  her,  and  was  so 
fond  as  to  think  that  she  loved  me:  She  said  she  had  a  great 
respect  for  me.  I  told  her,  I  had  made  her  an  offer,  without 
asking  any  advice;  she  had  so  many  to  advise  with,  that  twas 
a  hindrance.  The  Fire  was  come  to  one  short  Brand  besides 
the  Block,  which  Brand  was  set  up  in  end;  at  last  it  fell  to  pieces, 
and  no  Recruit  was  made:  She  gave  me  a  Glass  of  Wine.  I 
think  I  repeated  again  that  I  would  go  home  and  bewail  my 
Rashness  in  making  more  haste  than  good  Speed.  I  would  en 
deavour  to  contain  myself,  and  not  go  on  to  sollicit  her  to  do 
that  which  she  could  not  Consent  to.  Took  leave  of  her.  As 
came  dowrn  the  steps  she  bid  me  have  a  Care.  Treated  me 
Courteously.  Told  her  she  had  enter'd  the  4th  year  of  her 
Widowhood.  I  had  given  her  the  News-Letter  before:  I  did 
not  bid  her  draw  off  her  Glove  as  sometime  I  had  done.  Her 
Dress  was  not  so  clean  as  somtime  it  had  been.  Jehovah 
jireh ! 

Midweek,  gr.  gth.  Dine  at  Bro.  Stoddard's:  were  so  kind  as 
to  enquire  of  me  if  they  should  invite  M'm  Winthrop ;  I  answer'd 
No. 


SCRIPTURAL  PROPHECIES   CONCERNING   AMERICA 

[From  "Phenomena  qiuzdam  Apocalyptica,"  etc.] 

Some  judicious  and  learned  Divines  have  conjectured  that 
America  is  prophesied  of  in  the  thirty  seventh  of  Ezektel,  under  the 
denomination  of  a  Valley.  Certainly,  no  part  of  the  habitable 
World,  can  shew  more  Bones;  or  bones  more  dry,  than  these 
vast  Regions  do.  Mr.  Downam  thinks  that  Mr.  ElioVs  taking 
his  Text  from  thence  when  he  first  preached  to  the  Indians,  has 
its  weight.  His  Appendix  to  the  Letters  from  New-England,  is 
well  worth  the  reading.  The  Prophet  is  said  to  be  carried  out  in 


250  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

the  spirit :  and  for  ought  I  know,  he  might  be  carried  beyond  the 
limits  of  the  then  known  World. 

Dan.  ii.  45.  And  he  shall  plant  the  tabernacles  of  his  palace 
between  the  seas  in  the  glorious  holy  Mountain;  yet  he  shall  come 
to  his  end,  and,  none  shall  help  him. 

The  complexion  of  this  portion  of  Scripture  is  such,  as  con 
strains  me  to  imagin,  that  the  place  designed  by  the  holy  Spirit, 
is  no  other  than  America.  Every  word  almost  has  an  emphasis 
carrying  in  it,  to  me,  the  perswasion  of  this  sence.  They  who 
remove  from  one  Land  to  another,  there  to  dwell ;  that  settlement 
of  theirs  is  call'd  a  Plantation.  Especially,  when  a  Land,  before 
rude  and  unfurnish'd,  is  by  the  New-comers  replenished  with 
usefull  Arts,  Vegetables,  Animals.  Thus  when  in  the  year  1492. 
Christopher  Columbus  had  opened  the  way,  the  Spaniards  planted 
themselves  in  the  spatious  Regions  of  America;  and,  too  much, 
planted  Antichristianisme  in  the  room  of  Heathenisme. 

Tabernacles]  So  called  from  the  moveableness  of  their  con 
dition,  and  shortness  of  their  continuance.  As  Tents,  they  were 
lately  set  up;  and,  notwithstanding  all  their  Praemunitions,  so 
far  as  they  are  Antichristian,  they  shall  be  taken  down  before  it 
be  long,  by  the  immovable  Counsel  and  Providence  of  God. 

Palace]  The  Extent,  Riches,  and  Pomp  of  the  Mexican,  and 
Peruvian  Empires  are  very  great :  Insomuch  that  when  the  Church 
of  Rome  met  with  Losses  in  Europe,  they  pleased  themselves  with 
their  Gains  in  the  New-World.  They  glory  in  the  many  Churches 
they  have  planted  there ;  which  are,  they  say,  without  all  mixture 
of  Hereticks.  If  with  Mr.  Nicholas  Fuller,  Miscel.  sacr.  lib.  5. 
cap.  1 8.  we  take  this  word  to  signifie  Equile  Regium,  Horse- 
Guards;  It  will  still  look  upon  America.  The  Reputation  the 
Spaniards  Horses  gave  them,  did  much  contribute  towards  their 
prodigious  Conquests.  And  after  above  threescore  dangerous 
battels,  Mexico  was  at  last  taken  upon  Hippolytus  day;  August 
13,  1521.  Since  which  time,  Horses,  which  were  never  seen  there 
before,  are  one  of  the  four  Fair  Things  of  that  Citie. 

Between  the  Seas]  The  middle  Provinces  of  the  New- World, 
governed  by  the  Vice-Roys  of  Mexico,  and  Peru,  are  known  to 
lye  between  two  of  the  most  wide,  and  famous  Seas  of  the  whole 
World.  The  American  Isthmus;  respecting  its  own  narrowness, 


SAMUEL  SEW  ALL  251 

and  the  bold  approaches  of  the  huge  Ocean  on  either  side,  does 
command  the  title  oiNon  such.  America  it  self,  and  they  who  pass 
thither,  are  so  much  concerned  with  the  Sea,  that  Peter  Martyr 
stiled  his  History  Decads  of  the  Ocean.  And  in  the  general  History 
of  Spain,  part  of  the  King's  Title  is,  The  Islands,  and  firm  Land 
of  the  Ocean  Sea.  Grimeston,  p.  1234. 


EBENEZER   COOK 

[In  1708  there  was  published  in  London  a  pamphlet  containing  a  poem  of 
twenty-one  pages  with  the  title  "The  Sot-Weed  Factor:  Or,  a  Voyage  to 
Maryland.  A  Satyr.  In  which  is  describ'd,  The  Laws,  Government, 
Courts  and  Constitutions  of  the  Country;  and  also  the  Buildings,  Feasts, 
Frolicks,  Entertainments  and  Drunken  Humours  of  the  Inhabitants  of  that 
Part  of  America.  In  Burlesque  Verse.  By  Eben.  Cook,  Gent."  Nothing 
is  known  of  Eben.  Cook,  Gent.  In  1730  there  was  published  in  Annapolis 
a  political  satire  entitled  "Sotweed  Redivivus:  or  the  Planters  Looking- 
Glass.  In  Burlesque  Verse.  Calculated  for  the  Meridian  of  Maryland.  By 
E.  C.  Gent."  This  is  in  the  same  metrical  form  as  "The  Sot-Weed  Factor," 
and  purports  to  be  by  the  same  author;  but  from  the  character  and  quality 
of  the  poem  it  seems  rather  more  probable  that  some  other  person  adopted 
this  device  for  the  expression  of  his  views.  The  latest  editor  of  "The  Sot- 
Weed  Factor"  also  ascribes  to  Ebenezer  Cook  an  elegy  published  in  an 
Annapolis  newspaper  in  1728.  There  seems  to  be  no  positive  evidence, 
however,  that  the  author  was  a  permanent  resident  of  Maryland,  or  indeed 
that  he  stayed  in  the  colony  longer  than  the  hero  of  his  poem  is  represented 
as  doing.  Nevertheless,  "The  Sot-Weed  Factor"  has  come  to  be  regarded 
as  one  of  the  more  curious  bits  of  early  Americana,  and  can  hardly  be 
ignored  in  a  collection  like  the  present.  If  it  be  considered  as  an  American 
production,  it  shows  the  greater  development  of  broad  humor  in  the  South 
as  compared  with  New  England;  and  its  form,  evidently  influenced  by  the 
school  of  Butler,  illustrates  the  tendency  in  the  South  to  follow  at  a  little 
distance  the  literary  fashions  prevailing  in  England. 

The  selections  are  taken  from  the  edition  by  Bernard  C.  Steiner,  published 
by  the  Maryland  Historical  Society  in  1900.] 


THE  FACTOR'S  ADVENTURES 

[From  "The  Sot-Weed  Factor"] 

I  thought  it  proper  to  provide, 
A  Lodging  for  myself  and  Guide, 
So  to  our  Inn  we  march 'd  away, 
Which  at  a  little  distance  lay; 
Where  all  things  were  in  such  Confusion, 
I  thought  the  World  at  its  conclusion : 
252 


EBENEZER  COOK  253 

A  Herd  of  Planters  on  the  ground, 

O'er-whelm'd  with  Punch,  dead  drunk  we  found: 

Others  were  fighting  and  contending, 

Some  burnt  their  Cloaths  to  save  the  mending. 

A  few  whose  Heads  by  frequent  use, 

Could  better  bare  the  potent  Juice, 

Gravely  debated  State  Affairs. 

Whilst  I  most  nimbly  trip'd  up  Stairs; 

Leaving  my  Friend  discoursing  oddly, 

And  mixing  things  Prophane  and  Godly: 

Just  then  beginning  to  be  Drunk, 

As  from  the  Company  I  slunk, 

To  every  Room  and  Nook  I  crept, 

In  hopes  I  might  have  somewhere  slept; 

But  all  the  bedding  was  possest 

By  one  or  other  drunken  Guest: 

But  after  looking  long  about, 

I  found  an  antient  Corn-loft  out, 

Glad  that  I  might  in  quiet  sleep, 

And  there  my  bones  unfractur'd  keep. 

I  lay'd  me  down  secure  from  Fray, 

And  soundly  snoar'd  till  break  of  Day; 

When  waking  fresh  I  sat  upright, 

And  found  my  Shoes  were  vanish 'd  quite; 

Hat,  Wig,  and  Stockings,  all  were  fled 

From  this  extended  Indian  Bed : 

Vext  at  the  Loss  of  Goods  and  Chattel, 

I  swore  I'd  give  the  Rascal  battel, 

Who  had  abus'd  me  in  this  sort, 

And  Merchant  Stranger  made  his  Sport. 

I  furiously  descended  Ladder; 

No  Hare  in  March  was  ever  madder: 

In  vain  I  search 'd  for  my  Apparel, 

And  did  with  Oast  and  Servants  Quarrel; 

For  one  whose  Mind  did  much  aspire 

To  *  Mischief,  threw  them  in  the  Fire ; 

1  'Tis  the  Custom  of  the  Planters,  to  throw  their  own,  or  any  other  Person's 
Hat,  Wig,  Shooes  or  Stockings  in  the  Fire. 


254  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

Equipt  with  neither  Hat  nor  Shooe, 

I  did  my  coming  hither  rue, 

And  doubtful  thought  what  I  should  do: 

Then  looking  round,  I  saw  my  Friend 

Lie  naked  on  a  Tables  end; 

A  Sight  so  dismal  to  behold, 

One  wou'd  have  judg'd  him  dead  and  cold; 

When  wringing  of  his  bloody  Nose, 

By  fighting  got  we  may  suppose; 

I  found  him  not  so  fast  asleep, 

Might  give  his  Friends  a  cause  to  weep: 

Rise,  1Oronooko,  rise,  said  I, 

And  from  this  Hell  and  Bedlam  fly. 

My  Guide  starts  up,  and  in  amaze, 

With  blood-shot  Eyes  did  round  him  gaze; 

At  length  with  many  a  sigh  and  groan, 

He  went  in  search  of  aged  Rhoan; 

But  Rhoan,  tho'  seldom  us'd  to  faulter, 

Had  fairly  this  time  slipt  his  Halter; 

And  not  content  all  Night  to  stay, 

Ty'd  up  from  Fodder,  ran  away: 

After  my  Guide  to  ketch  him  ran, 

And  so  I  lost  both  Horse  and  Man; 

Which  Disappointment,  tho'  so  great, 

Did  only  Mirth  and  Jests  create: 

Till  one  more  Civil  than  the  rest, 

In  Conversation  for  the  best, 

Observing  that  for  want  of  Rhoan, 

I  should  be  left  to  walk  alone; 

Most  readily  did  me  intreat, 

To  take  a  Bottle  at  his  Seat; 

A  Favour  at  that  time  so  great, 

I  blest  my  kind  propitious  Fate; 

And  finding  soon  a  fresh  supply 

Of  Cloaths  from  Stoar-house  kept  hard  by, 

I  mounted  streight  on  such  a  Steed, 

1  Planters  are  usually  call'd  by  the  Name  of  Oronooko,  from  their  Planting 
Oronooko-  Tobacco. 


EBENEZER  COOK  255 

Did  rather  curb,  than  whipping  need; 
And  straining  at  the  usual  rate, 
With  spur  of  Punch  which  lay  in  Pate, 
E'er  long  we  lighted  at  the  Gate: 
Where  in  an  antient  Cedar  House, 
Dwelt  my  new  Friend,  a  l  Cockerouse ; 
Whose  Fabrick,  tho'  'twas  built  of  Wood, 
Had  many  Springs  and  Winters  stood; 
When  Sturdy  Oaks,  and  lofty  Pines 
Were  level'd  with  2  Musmelion  Vines, 
And  Plants  eradicated  were, 
By  Hurricanes  into  the  air; 
There  with  good  Punch  and  apple  Juice, 
We  spent  our  Hours  without  abuse: 
Till  Midnight  in  her  sable  Vest, 
Persuaded  Gods  and  Men  to  rest; 
And  with  a  pleasing  kind  surprize, 
Indulg'd  soft  Slumbers  to  my  Eyes. 
Fierce  3&thon  courser  of  the  Sun 
Had  half  his  Race  exactly  run; 
And  breath 'd  on  me  a  fiery  Ray, 
Darting  hot  Beams  the  following  Day, 
When  snug  in  Blanket  white  I  lay: 
But  Heat  and  4  Chinees  rais'd  the  Sinner, 
Most  opportunely  to  his  Dinner; 
Wild  Fowl  and  Fish  delicious  Meats, 
As  good  as  Neptune's  Doxy  eats, 
Began  our  Hospitable  Treat; 
Fat  Venson  follow'd  in  the  rear, 
And  Turkies  wild  Luxurious  Chear: 
But  what  the  Feast  did  most  commend, 
Was  hearty  welcom  from  my  Friend. 

1  Cockerouse,  is  a  Man  of  Quality. 

*  Musmilleon  Vines  are  what  we  call  Muskmilleon  Plants. 

*  Mihon  is  one  of  the  Poetical  Horses  of  the  Sun. 

*  Chinees  are  a  sort  of  vermin  like  our  Bugs  in  England. 


256  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

A  BARGAIN  WITH  A   QUAKER 

[From  "The  Sot- Weed  Factor"] 

I  then  began  to  think  with  Care, 
How  I  might  sell  my  British  Ware, 
That  with  my  Freight  I  might  comply, 
Did  on  my  Charter  party  lie : 
To  this  intent,  with  Guide  before, 
I  tript  it  to  the  Eastern  Shoar; 
While  riding  near  a  Sandy  Bay, 
I  met  a  Quaker,  Yea  and  Nay; 
A  Pious  Conscientious  Rogue, 
As  e'er  woar  Bonnet  or  a  Brogue, 
Who  neither  Swore  nor  kept  his  Word, 
But  cheated  in  the  Fear  of  God; 
And  when  his  Debts  he  would  not  pay, 
By  Light  within  he  ran  away. 
With  this  sly  Zealot  soon  I  struck 
A  Bargain  for  my  English  Truck, 
Agreeing  for  ten  thousand  weight, 
Of  Sot-weed  good  and  fit  for  freight, 
Broad  Oronooko  bright  and  sound, 
The  growth  and  product  of  his  ground; 
In  Cask  that  should  contain  compleat, 
Five  hundred  of  Tobacco  neat. 
The  Contract  thus  betwixt  us  made, 
Not  well  acquainted  with  the  Trade, 
My  Goods  I  trusted  to  the  Cheat, 
Whose  crop  was  then  aboard  the  Fleet; 
And  going  to  receive  my  own, 
I  found  the  Bird  was  newly  flown: 
Cursing  this  execrable  Slave, 
This  damn'd  pretended  Godly  Knave; 
On  due  Revenge  and  Justice  bent, 
I  instantly  to  Counsel  went, 
Unto  an  ambodexter  *  Quack, 
Who  learnedly  had  got  the  knack 
1  This  Fellow  was  an  Apothecary,  and  turn'd  an  Attorney  at  Law. 


EBENEZER  COOK 

Of  giving  Glisters,  making  Pills, 
Of  filling  Bonds,  and  forging  Wills; 
And  with  a  stock  of  Impudence, 
Supply'd  his  want  of  Wit  and  Sense; 
With  Looks  demure,  amazing  People, 
No  wiser  than  a  Daw  in  Steeple; 
My  Anger  flushing  in  my  Face, 
I  stated  the  preceeding  Case: 
And  of  my  Money  was  so  lavish, 
That  he'd  have  poyson'd  half  the  Parish, 
And  hang'd  his  Father  on  a  Tree, 
For  such  another  tempting  Fee; 
Smiling,  said  he,  the  Cause  is  clear, 
I'll  manage  him  you  need  not  fear; 
The  Case  is  judg'd,  good  Sir,  but  look 
In  Galen,  No  —  in  my  Lord  Cook, 
I  vow  to  God  I  was  mistook : 
I'll  take  out  a  Provincial  Writ, 
And  Trounce  him  for  his  Knavish  Wit; 
Upon  my  Life  we'll  win  the  Cause, 
With  all  the  ease  I  cure  the  Yaws: 
Resolv'd  to  plague  the  holy  Brother, 
I  set  one  Rogue  to  catch  another; 
To  try  the  Cause  then  fully  bent, 
Up  to  Annapolis  I  went, 
A  City  Situate  on  a  Plain, 
Where  scarce  a  House  will  keep  out  Rain; 
The  Buildings  fram'd  with  Cyprus  rare, 
Resembles  much  our  Southwark  Fair: 
But  Stranger  here  will  scarcely  meet 
With  Market-place,  Exchange,  or  Street; 
And  if  the  Truth  I  may  report, 
'Tis  not  so  large  as  Tottenham  Court. 
St.  Mary's  once  was  in  repute, 
Now  here  the  Judges  try  the  Suit, 
And  Lawyers  twice  a  Year  dispute. 
As  oft  the  Bench  most  gravely  meet, 
Some  to  get  Drunk,  and  some  to  eat, 
s 


257 


258  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

A  swinging  share  of  Country  Treat. 
But  as  for  Justice  right  or  wrong, 
Not  one  amongst  the  numerous  throng, 
Knows  what  they  mean,  or  has  the  Heart, 
To  give  his  Verdict  on  a  Stranger's  part: 
Now  Court  being  calPd  by  beat  of  Drum, 
The  Judges  left  their  Punch  and  Rum, 
When  Pettifogger  Doctor  draws, 
His  Paper  forth,  and  opens  Cause : 
And  least  I  should  the  better  get, 
Brib'd  Quack  supprest  his  Knavish  Wit. 


The  Byast  Court  without  delay, 
Adjudg'd  my  Debt  in  Country  Pay; 
In1  Pipe  Staves,  Corn,  or  Flesh  of  Boar, 
Rare  Cargo  for  the  English  Shoar: 
Raging  with  Grief,  full  speed  I  ran, 
To  joyn  the  Fleet  at2  Kicketan; 
Embarqu'd  and  waiting  for  a  Wind, 
I  left  this  dreadful  Curse  behind. 

May  Canniballs  transported  o'er  the  Sea 
Prey  on  these  Slaves,  as  they  have  done  on  me; 
May  never  Merchant's,  trading  Sails  explore 
This  Cruel,  this  Inhospitable  Shoar; 
But  left  abandon'd  by  the  World  to  starve, 
May  they  sustain  the  Fate  they  well  deserve: 
May  they  turn  Savage,  or  as  Indians  Wild, 
From  Trade,  Converse,  and  Happiness  exil'd; 
Recreant  to  Heaven,  may  they  adore  the  Sun, 
And  into  Pagan  Superstitions  run 

For  Vengeance  ripe 

May  Wrath  Divine  then  lay  those  Regions  wast 
Where  no  Man's 3  Faithful,  nor  a  Woman  Chast. 

1  There  is  a  Law  in  this  Country,  the  Plantiff  may  pay  his  Debt  in  Country 
pay,  which  consists  in  the  produce  of  his  Plantation. 

2  The  homeward  bound  Fleet  meets  here. 

8  The  Author  does  not  intend  by  this,  any  of  the  English  Gentlemen  resident 
there. 


WILLIAM  BYRD 

[William  Byrd,  of  Westover,  was  a  type  of  the  wealthy  and  cultured  Vir 
ginia  gentleman  who  wrote  as  an  avocation.  He  was  born  in  Virginia  in 
1674,  and  educated  in  England  and  on  the  Continent.  Before  he  returned 
to  America,  he  studied  law  at  the  Middle  Temple,  and  was  called  to  the  Bar, 
and  also  became  a  member  of  the  Royal  Society.  At  home  he  devoted  him 
self  to  managing  the  estate  which  his  father  had  built  up,  to  the  performance  of 
many  public  duties,  to  the  acquiring  of  a  large  library,  and  to  the  social  and 
intellectual  enjoyments  available  among  the  aristocracy  of  Virginia  in  their 
best  days.  One  of  his  public  employments  was  as  member  of  the  Commis 
sion  which  in  1728  established  the  boundary  line  between  Virginia  and  North 
Carolina.  An  elaboration  of  the  journal  kept  during  this  survey  is  the 
chief  of  his  writings. 

Colonel  Byrd's  writings  were  not  published  during  his  lifetime,  but  were 
carefully  copied  under  his  direction  and  bound  into  a  manuscript  volume 
for  preservation  in  his  family.  The  chief  papers  in  this  volume  are,  besides 
"The  History  of  the  Dividing  Line,"  already  referred  to,  "A  Journey  to 
the  Land  of  Eden,"  "A  Progress  to  the  Mines,"  and  "An  Essay  on  Bulk 
Tobacco."  The  authorship  of  the  last-named  essay  is  questioned  by  Byrd's 
latest  editor.  The  other  three  papers  are  accounts  of  expeditions  in  the  less 
settled  parts  of  the  colony.  The  observations  which  the  author  records 
show  his  wide  interest,  which  embraced  not  only  matters  of  practical  eco 
nomic  importance,  but  curiosities  in  natural  history,  medicine,  etc.;  and 
allusions  to  his  reading  are  an  interesting  revelation  of  the  culture  of  his  day. 
The  papers  are  written  in  a  style  that  makes  even  the  narration  of  common 
place  facts  interesting,  and  they  abound  in  a  wit  that,  when  it  avoids  the 
loose  conventional  jests  that  were  the  fashion,  is  sprightly  and  genuine. 

The  chief  of  the  "Westover  Manuscripts,"  as  they  have  been  called  from 
the  family  residence  where  they  were  preserved,  have  been  printed  in  1841, 
1866,  and  1901.  The  following  selections  are  from  the  latest  edition,  by 
John  Spencer  Bassett.] 

THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  SURVEY 

[From  "The  History  of  the  Dividing  Line"] 

[March]  7.  This  Morning  the  Surveyors  began  to  run  the 
Dividing  line  from  the  Cedar-Post  we  had  driven  into  the  Sand, 
allowing  near  3  Degrees  for  the  Variation.  Without  making  this 

259 


260  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

Just  allowance,  we  should  not  have  obeyd  his  Majesty's  order 
in  running  a  Due  West  Line.  It  seems  the  former  Commissioners 
had  not  been  so  exact,  which  gave  our  Friends  of  Carolina  but 
too  just  an  Exception  to  their  Proceedings. 

The  Line  cut  Dosier's  Island,  consisting  only  of  a  Flat  Sand, 
with  here  and  there  an  humble  Shrub  growing  upon  it.  From 
thence  it  crost  over  a  narrow  Arm  of  the  Sound  into  Knot's  Island, 
and  there  Split  a  Plantation  belonging  to  William  Harding. 

The  Day  being  far  spent,  we  encampt  in  this  Man's  Pasture, 
tho'  it  lay  very  low,  and  the  Season  now  inclin'd  People  to  Aguish 
Distempers.  He  suffered  us  to  cut  Cedar-Branches  for  our  En 
closure,  and  other  Wood  for  Firing,  to  correct  the  moist  Air  and 
drive  away  the  Damps.  Our  Landlady,  in  the  Days  of  her  Youth, 
it  seems,  had  been  a  Laundress  in  the  Temple,  and  talkt  over  her 
Adventures  in  that  Station,  with  as  much  pleasure  as  an  Old 
Soldier  talks  over  his  Battles  and  Distempers,  and  I  believe  with 
as  many  Additions  to  the  Truth. 

The  Soil  is  good  in  many  Places  of  this  Island,  and  the  Extent 
of  it  pretty  large.  It  lyes  in  the  form  of  a  Wedge :  The  South  End 
of  it  is  Several  Miles  over,  but  towards  the  North  it  Sharpens  into 
a  Point.  It  is  a  Plentiful  Place  for  Stock,  by  reason  of  the  wide 
Marshes  adjacent  to  it,  and  because  of  its  warm  Situation.  But 
the  Inhabitants  pay  a  little  dear  for  this  Convenience,  by  losing 
as  much  Blood  in  the  Summer  Season  by  the  infinite  Number 
of  Mosquetas,  as  all  their  Beef  and  Pork  can  recruit  in  the  Winter. 

The  Sheep  are  as  large  as  in  Lincolnshire,  because  they  are 
never  pincht  by  cold  or  Hunger.  The  whole  Island  was  hitherto 
reckon'd  to  lye  in  Virginia,  but  now  our  Line  has  given  the  greater 
Part  of  it  to  Carolina.  The  Principal  Freeholder  here  is  Mr. 
White,  who  keeps  open  House  for  all  Travellers,  that  either  Debt 
or  Shipwreck  happens  to  cast  in  his  way. 

8.  By  break  of  Day  we  sent  away  our  Largest  Periauga,  with  the 
Baggage,  round  the  South  end  of  Knot's  Island,  with  Orders  to 
the  Men  to  wait  for  us  in  the  Mouth  of  North  River.  Soon  after, 
we  embarkt  ourselves  on  board  the  smaller  Vessel,  with  Intent, 
if  possible,  to  find  a  Passage  round  the  North  End  of  the  Island. 

We  found  this  Navigation  very  difficult,  by  reason  of  the  Con 
tinued  Shoals,  and  often  stuck  fast  aground;  for  tho'  the  Sound 


WILLIAM  BYRD  261 

spreads  many  miles,  yet  it  is  in  most  places  extremely  Shallow, 
and  requires  a  Skilful  Pilot  to  Steer  even  a  Canoe  safe  over  it. 
It  was  almost  as  hard  to  keep  our  Temper  as  to  keep  the  Channel, 
in  this  provoking  Situation.  But  the  most  impatient  amongst  us 
strokt  down  their  Choler  and  swallow'd  their  curses,  lest,  if  they 
suffer'd  them  to  break  out,  they  might  sound  like  Complaining, 
which  was  expressly  forbid,  as  the  first  Step  to  Sedition. 

At  a  distance  we  descry'd  Several  Islands  to  the  Northward  of 
us,  the  largest  of  which  goes  by  the  Name  of  Cedar  Island.  Our 
periauga  stuck  so  often  that  we  had  a  fair  chance  to  be  benighted 
in  this  wide  Water,  which  must  certainly  have  been  our  Fate,  had 
we  not  luckily  spied  a  Canoe  that  was  giving  a  Fortune-teller  a 
cast  from  Princess  Anne  County  over  to  North  Carolina.  But, 
as  conjurers  are  Sometimes  mistaken,  the  Man  mistrusted  we  were 
Officers  of  Justice  in  pursuit  of  a  Young  Wench  he  had  carry'd 
off  along  with  him.  We  gave  the  Canoe  Chase  for  more  than  an 
Hour  and  when  we  came  up  with  her,  threatend  to  make  them  all 
prisoners  unless  they  would  direct  us  into  the  right  Channel. 

By  the  Pilotage  of  these  People  we  row'd  up  an  Arm  of  the 
Sound,  calPd  the  Back-Bay,  till  we  came  to  the  Head  of  it.  There 
we  were  stoppt  by  a  miry  Pocoson  full  half  a  ^lile  in  Breadth,  thro' 
which  we  were  oblig'd  to  daggle  on  foot,  plungeing  now  and  then, 
tho*  we  pickt  our  Way,  up  to  the  Knees  in  Mud.  At  the  End  of 
this  Charming  walk  we  gain'd  the  Terra  Firma  of  Princess  Anne 
County.  In  that  Dirty  Condition  we  were  afterwards  oblig'd 
to  foot  it  two  Miles,  as  far  as  John  Heath's  Plantation,  where  we 
expected  to  meet  the  Surveyors  &  the  men  who  waited  upon  them. 

THE   GREAT   DISMAL   SWAMP 

[From  "The  History  of  the  Dividing  Line"] 

Our  Landlord  had  a  tolerable  good  House  and  Clean  Furniture, 
and  yet  we  cou'd  not  be  tempted  to  lodge  in  it.  We  chose  rather 
to  lye  in  the  open  Field,  for  fear  of  growing  too  tender.  A  clear 
Sky,  spangled  with  Stars,  was  our  Canopy,  which  being  the  last 
thing  we  saw  before  we  fell  asleep,  gave  us  Magnificent  Dreams. 
The  Truth  of  it  is,  we  took  so  much  pleasure'in  that  "natural  kind 
of  Lodging,  that  I  think  at  the  foot  of  the  Account  Mankind  are 


262  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

great  Losers  by  the  Luxury  of  Feather-Beds  and  warm  apart 
ments. 

The  curiosity  of  beholding  so  new  and  withal  so  Sweet  a  Method 
of  encamping,  brought  one  of  the  Senators  of  N  Carolina  to  make 
us  a  Midnight  Visit.  But  he  was  so  very  Clamorous  in  his  Com 
mendations  of  it,  that  the  Centinel,  not  seeing  his  Quality,  either 
thro'  his  habit  or  Behaviour,  had  like  to  have  treated  him  roughly. 

After  excusing  the  Unseasonableness  of  his  Visit,  and  letting 
us  know  he  was  a  Parliament  Man,  he  swore  he  was  so  taken  with 
our  Lodging,  that  he  would  set  Fire  to  his  House  as  soon  as  he  got 
Home,  and  teach  his  Wife  and  Children  to  lie,  like  us,  in  the  open 
field. 

13.  Early  this  Morning  our  Chaplain  repair 'd  to  us  with  the 
Men  we  had  left  at  Mr.  Wilson's.  We  had  sent  for  them  the 
Evening  before  to  relieve  those  who  had  the  Labour  Oar  from 
Corotuck-Inlet.  But  to  our  great  surprise,  they  petition'd  not 
to  be  reliev'd,  hoping  to  gain  immortal  Reputation  by  being 
the  first  of  Mankind  that  Ventur'd  thro'  the  great  Dismal.  But 
the  rest  being  equally  Ambitious  of  the  same  Honour,  it  was  but 
fair  to  decide  their  Pretensions  by  Lot.  After  Fortune  had  declar'd 
herself,  those  which  she  had  excluded  offer'd  Money  to  the  Happy 
Persons  to  go  in  their  Stead.  But  Hercules  would  have  as  soon 
sold  the  Glory  of  cleansing  the  Augean  Stables,  which  was  pretty 
near  the  same  Sort  of  Work. 

No  sooner  was  the  Controversy  at  an  end,  but  we  sent  them  un 
fortunate  Fellows  back  to  their  Quarters,  whom  Chance  had  Con- 
demn'd  to  remain  upon  Firm  Land  and  Sleep  in  a  whole  Skin. 
In  the  mean  while  the  Surveyors  carry'd  the  Line  3  Miles,  which 
was  no  Contemptible  day's  work,  considering  how  cruelly  they 
were  entangled  with  Bryars  and  Gall  Bushes.  The  Leaf  of  this 
last  Shrub  bespeaks  it  to  be  of  the  Alaternus  Family. 

Our  Work  ended  within  a  Quarter  of  a  Mile  of  the  Dismal 
above-mention'd,  where  the  Ground  began  to  be  already  full  of 
Sunken  Holes  and  Slashes,  which  had,  here  and  there,  some  few 
Reeds  growing  in  them. 

Tis  hardly  credible  how  little  the  Bordering  inhabitants  were 
acquainted  with  this  mighty  Swamp,  notwithstanding  they  had 
liv'd  their  whole  lives  within  Smell  of  it.  Yet,  as  great  Strangers 


WILLIAM   BYRD  263 

as  they  were  to  it,  they  pretended  to  be  very  exact  in  their  Account 
of  its  Dimensions,  and  were  positive  it  could  not  be  above  7  or  8 
Miles  wide,  but  knew  no  more  of  the  Matter  than  Star-gazers 
know  of  the  Distance  of  the  Fixt  Stars.  At  the  Same  time,  they 
were  Simple  enough  to  amuse  our  Men  with  Idle  Stories  of  the 
Lyons,  Panthers  and  Alligators,  they  were  like  to  encounter  in  that 
dreadful  Place. 

In  short,  we  saw  plainly  there  was  no  Intelligence  of  this  Terra 
Incognita  to  be  got,  but  from  our  own  Experience.  For  that 
Reason  it  was  resolv'd  to  make  the  requisite  Dispositions  to  enter 
it  next  Morning.  We  allotted  every  one  of  the  Surveyors  for  this 
painful  Enterprise,  with  12  Men  to  attend  them.  Fewer  than  that 
cou'd  not  be  employ'd  in  clearing  the  way,  carrying  the  Chain, 
marking  the  Trees,  and  bearing  the  necessary  Bedding  and  Provi 
sions.  Nor  wou'd  the  Commissioners  themselves  have  Spared 
their  Persons  on  this  Occasion,  but  for  fear  of  adding  to  the  poor 
men's  Burthen,  while  they  were  certain  they  cou'd  add  nothing  to 
their  Resolution. 

We  quarter'd  with  our  Friend  and  Fellow  Traveller,  William 
Wilkins,  who  had  been  our  faithful  Pilot  to  Coratuck,  and  liv'd 
about  a  mile  from  the  Place  where  the  Line  ended.  Every  thing 
lookt  so  very  clean,  and  the  Furniture  so  neat,  that  we  were  tempted 
to  Lodge  within  Doors.  But  the  Novelty  of  being  shut  up  so  close 
quite  spoil'd  our  rest,  nor  did  we  breathe  so  free  by  abundance, 
as  when  we  lay  in  the  open  Air. 

14.  Before  nine  of  the  Clock  this  Morning,  the  Provisions,  Bed 
ding  and  other  Necessaries,  were  made  up  into  Packs  for  the  Men 
to  carry  on  their  Shoulders  into  the  Dismal.  They  were  victuall'd 
for  8  days  at  full  Allowance,  Nobody  doubting  but  that  wou'd  be 
abundantly  Sufficient  to  carry  them  thro'  that  Inhospitable  Place ; 
nor  Indeed  was  it  possible  for  the  Poor  Fellows  to  Stagger  under 
more.  As  it  was,  their  Loads  weigh 'd  from  60  to  70  Pounds,  in 
just  Proportion  to  the  Strength  of  those  who  were  to  bear  them. 

Twou'd  have  been  unconscionable  to  have  Saddled  them  with 
Burthens  heavier  than  that,  when  they  were  to  lugg  them  thro'  a 
filthy  Bogg,  which  was  hardly  practicable  with  no  Burthen  at  all. 

Besides  this  Luggage  at  their  Backs,  they  were  oblig'd  to  meas 
ure  the  distance,  mark  the  Trees,  and  clear  the  way  for  the  Sur- 


264  EARLY   AMERICAN    WRITERS 

veyors  every  Step  they  went.  It  was  really  a  Pleasure  to  see  with 
how  much  Cheerfulness  they  undertook,  and  with  how  much  Spirit 
they  went  thro'  all  this  Drudgery.  For  their  Greater  Safety,  the 
Commissioners  took  care  to  furnish  them  with  Peruvian-Bark, 
Rhubarb  and  Hipocoacanah,  in  case  they  might  happen,  in  that 
wet  Journey,  to  be  taken  with  fevers  or  Fluxes. 

Altho'  there  was  no  need  of  Example  to  inflame  Persons  already 
so  cheerful,  yet  to  enter  the  People  with  better  grace,  the  Author 
and  two  more  of  the  Commissioners  accompanied  them  half  a 
Mile  into  the  Dismal.  The  Skirts  of  it  were  thinly  Planted  with 
Dwarf  Reeds  and  Gall-Bushes,  but  when  we  got  into  the  Dismal 
itself,  we  found  the  Reeds  grew  there  much  taller  and  closer,  and, 
to  mend  the  matter  was  so  interlac'd  with  bamboe-briars,  that  there 
was  no  scuffling  thro'  them  without  the  help  of  Pioneers.  At  the 
same  time,  we  found  the  Ground  moist  and  trembling  under  our 
feet  like  a  Quagmire,  insomuch  that  it  was  an  easy  Matter  to  run  a 
Ten-Foot-Pole  up  to  the  Head  in  it,  without  exerting  any  uncom 
mon  Strength  to  do  it. 

Two  of  the  Men,  whose  Burthens  were  the  least  cumbersome, 
had  orders  to  march  before,  with  their  Tomahawks,  and  clear  the 
way,  in  order  to  make  an  Opening  for  the  Surveyors.  By  their 
Assistance  we  made  a  Shift  to  push  the  Line  half  a  Mile  in  3  Hours, 
and  then  reacht  a  small  piece  of  firm  Land,  about  100  Yards  wide, 
Standing  up  above  the  rest  like  an  Island.  Here  the  people  were 
glad  to  lay  down  their  Loads  and  take  a  little  refreshment,  while 
the  happy  man,  whose  lot  it  was  to  carry  the  Jugg  of  Rum,  began 
already,  like  Aesop's  Bread- Carriers,  to  find  it  grow  a  good  deal 
lighter. 

After  reposing  about  an  Hour,  the  Commissioners  recommended 
Vigour  and  Constancy  to  their  Fellow-Travellers,  by  whom  they 
were  answer'd  with  3  Cheerful  Huzzas,  in  Token  of  Obedience. 
This  Ceremony  was  no  sooner  over  but  they  took  up  their  Burthens 
and  attended  the  Motion  of  the  Surveyors,  who,  tho'  they  workt 
with  all  their  might,  could  reach  but  one  Mile  farther,  the  same 
obstacles  still  attending  them  which  they  had  met  with  in  the 
Morning. 

However  small  this  distance  may  seem  to  such  as  are  us'd  to 
travel  at  their  Ease,  yet  our  Poor  Men,  who  were  oblig'd  to  work 


WILLIAM   BYRD  265 

with  an  unwieldy  Load  at  their  Backs,  had  reason  to  think  it  a 
long  way;  Especially  in  a  Bogg  where  they  had  no  firm  Footing, 
but  every  Step  made  a  deep  Impression,  which  was  instantly  fill'd 
with  Water.  At  the  same  time  they  were  labouring  with  their 
Hands  to  cut  down  the  Reeds,  which  were  Ten-feet  high,  their 
Legs  were  hampered  with  the  Bryars.  Besides,  the  Weather 
happen'd  to  be  very  warm,  and  the  tallness  of  the  Reeds  kept  off 
every  Friendly  Breeze  from  coming  to  refresh  them.  And,  indeed, 
it  was  a  little  provoking  to  hear  the  Wind  whistling  among  the 
Branches  of  the  White  Cedars,  which  grew  here  and  there  amongst 
the  Reeds,  and  at  the  same  time  not  have  the  Comfort  to  feel  the 
least  Breath  of  it. 

In  the  mean  time  the  3  Commissioners  return'd  out  of  the  Dis 
mal  the  same  way  they  went  in,  and,  having  join'd  their  Brethren, 
proceeded  that  Night  as  far  as  Mr.  Wilson's. 

This  worthy  Person  lives  within  sight  of  the  Dismal,  in  the  Skirts 
whereof  his  Stocks  range  and  Maintain  themselves  all  the  Winter, 
and  yet  he  knew  as  little  of  it  as  he  did  of  Terra  Australis  Incog 
nita.  He  told  us  a  Canterbury  Tale  of  a  North  Briton,  whose 
Curiosity  Spurr'd  him  a  long  way  into  this  great  Desart,  as  he 
call'd  it,  near  20  Years  ago,  but  he  having  no  Compass,  nor  seeing 
the  Sun  for  several  Days  Together,  wander 'd  about  till  he  was 
almost  famisht;  but  at  last  he  bethought  himself  of  a  Secret  his 
Countrymen  make  use  of  to  Pilot  themselves  in  a  Dark  day. 

He  took  a  fat  Louse  out  of  his  Collar,  and  expos 'd  it  to  the  open 
day  on  a  Piece  of  White  Paper,  which  he  brought  along  with  him 
for  his  Journal.  The  poor  Insect  having  no  Eye-lids,  turn'd 
himself  about  till  he  found  the  Darkest  Part  of  the  Heavens,  and 
so  made  the  best  of  his  way  towards  the  North.  By  this  Direction 
he  Steer'd  himself  Safe  out,  and  gave  such  a  frightful  account  of  the 
Monsters  he  saw,  and  the  Distresses  he  underwent,  that  no  mortall 
Since  has  been  hardy  enough  to  go  upon  the  like  dangerous  Dis 
covery. 

15.  The  Surveyors  pursued  their  work  with  all  Diligence,  but 
Still  found  the  Soil  of  the  Dismal  so  Spongy  that  the  Water  ouzed 
up  into  every  foot-step  they  took.  To  their  Sorrow,  too,  they  found 
the  Reeds  and  Bryars  more  firmly  interwoven  than  they  did  the 
day  before.  But  the  greatest  Grievance  was  from  large  Cypresses, 


266  EARLY  AMERICAN   WRITERS 

which  the  Wind  had  blown  down  and  heap'd  upon  one  another. 
On  the  Limbs  of  most  of  them  grew  Sharp  Snags,  Pointing  every 
way  like  so  many  Pikes,  that  requir'd  much  Pains  and  Caution 
to  avoid. 

These  Trees  being  Evergreens,  and  Shooting  their  Large  Tops 
Very  high,  are  easily  overset  by  every  Gust  of  Wind,  because  there 
is  no  firm  Earth  to  Steddy  their  Roots.  Thus  many  of  them  were 
laid  prostrate  to  the  great  Encumbrance  of  the  way.  Such 
Variety  of  Difficulties  made  the  Business  go  on  heavily,  insomuch 
that,  from  Morning  till  Night,  the  Line  could  advance  no  further 
than  i  Mile  and  31  Poles.  Never  was  Rum,  that  cordial  of  Life, 
found  more  necessary  than  it  was  in  this  Dirty  Place.  It  did  not 
only  recruit  the  People's  Spirits,  now  almost  Jaded  with  Fatigue, 
but  serv'd  to  correct  the  Badness  of  the  Water,  and  at  the  same 
time  to  resist  the  Malignity  of  the  Air.  Whenever  the  Men  wanted 
to  drink,  which  was  very  often,  they  had  nothing  more  to  do  but  to 
make  a  Hole,  and  the  Water  bubbled  up  in  a  Moment.  But  it 
was  far  from  being  either  clear  or  well  tasted,  and  had  besides  a 
Physical  Effect,  from  the  Tincture  it  receiv'd  from  the  Roots  of 
the  Shrubbs  and  Trees  that  grew  in  the  Neighbourhood. 

LIFE  IN  NORTH  CAROLINA 

[From  "The  History  of  the  Dividing  Line"] 

The  Pines  in  this  Part  of  the  country  are  of  a  different  Species 
from  those  that  grow  in  Virginia :  their  bearded  Leaves  are  much 
longer  and  their  Cones  much  larger.  Each  Cell  contains  a  Seed 
of  the  Size  and  Figure  of  a  black-ey'd  Pea,  which,  Shedding  in 
November,  is  very  good  Mast  for  Hogs,  and  fattens  them  in  a 
Short  time. 

The  Smallest  of  these  Pines  are  full  of  Cones,  which  are  8  or 
9  Inches  long,  and  each  affords  commonly  60  or  70  Seeds.  This 
Kind  of  Mast  has  the  Advantage  of  all  other,  by  being  more  con 
stant,  and  less  liable  to  be  nippt  by  the  Frost,  or  Eaten  by  the 
Caterpillars.  The  Trees  also  abound  more  with  Turpentine, 
and  consequently  yield  more  Tarr,  than  either  the  Yellow  or  the 
White  Pine ;  And  for  the  same  reason  make  more  durable  Timber 
for  building.  The  Inhabitants  hereabouts  pick  up  Knots  of  Light- 


WILLIAM  BYRD  267 

wood  in  Abundance,  which  they  burn  into  tar,  and  then  carry  it  to 
Norfolk  or  Nansimond  for  a  Market.  The  Tar  made  in  this 
method  is  the  less  Valuable,  because  it  is  said  to  burn  the  Cordage, 
tho'  it  is  full  as  good  for  all  other  uses,  as  that  made  in  Sweden 
and  Muscovy. 

Surely  there  is  no  place  in  the  World  where  the  Inhabitants  live 
with  less  Labour  than  in  N  Carolina.  It  approaches  nearer  to 
the  Description  of  Lubberland  than  any  other,  by  the  great  felicity 
of  the  Climate,  the  easiness  of  raising  Provisions,  and  the  Slothful- 
ness  of  the  People. 

Indian  Corn  is  of  so  great  increase,  that  a  little  Pains  will  Sub 
sist  a  very  large  Family  with  Bread,  and  then  they  may  have  meat 
without  any  pains  at  all,  by  the  Help  of  the  Low  Grounds,  and  the 
great  Variety  of  Mast  that  grows  on  the  High-land.  The  Men, 
for  their  Parts,  just  like  the  Indians,  impose  all  the  Work  upon  the 
poor  Women.  They  make  their  Wives  rise  out  of  their  Beds  early 
in  the  Morning,  at  the  same  time  that  they  lye  and  Snore,  till  the 
Sun  has  run  one  third  of  his  course,  and  disperst  all  the  unwhole 
some  Damps.  Then,  after  Stretching  and  Yawning  for  half  an 
Hour,  they  light  their  Pipes,  and,  under  the  Protection  of  a  cloud 
of  Smoak,  venture  out  into  the  open  Air;  tho',  if  it  happens  to  be 
never  so  little  cold,  they  quickly  return  Shivering  into  the  Chimney 
corner.  When  the  weather  is  mild,  they  stand  leaning  with  both 
their  arms  upon  the  corn-field  fence,  and  gravely  consider  whether 
they  had  best  go  and  take  a  Small  Heat  at  the  Hough :  but  gener 
ally  find  reasons  to  put  it  off  till  another  time. 

Thus  they  loiter  away  their  Lives,  like  Solomon's  Sluggard, 
with  their  Arms  across,  and  at  the  Winding  up  of  the  Year  Scarcely 
have  Bread  to  Eat. 

To  speak  the  Truth,  tis  a  thorough  Aversion  to  Labor  that  makes 
People  file  off  to  N  Carolina,  where  Plenty  and  a  Warm  Sun  con 
firm  them  in  their  Disposition  to  Laziness  for  their  whole  Lives. 

26.  Since  we  were  like  to  be  confin'd  to  this  place,  till  the  People 
return'd  out  of  the  Dismal,  twas  agreed  that  our  Chaplain  might 
Safely  take  a  turn  to  Edenton,  to  preach  the  Gospel  to  the  In 
fidels  there,  and  Christen  their  Children.  He  was  accompany'd 
thither  by  Mr.  Little,  One  of  the  Carolina  Commissioners,  who,  to 
shew  his  regard  for  the  Church,  offer'd  to  treat  Him  on  the  Road 


268  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

with  a  Fricassee  of  Rum.  They  fry'd  half  a  dozen  Rashers  of 
very  fat  Bacon  in  a  Pint  of  Rum,  both  which  being  disht  up  to 
gether,  serv'd  the  Company  at  once  for  meat  and  Drink. 

Most  of  the  Rum  they  get  in  this  Country  comes  from  New 
England,  and  is  so  bad  and  unwholesome,  that  it  is  not  improperly 
call'd  "Kill-Devil."  It  is  distill'd  there  from  forreign  molosses, 
which,  if  Skilfully  manag'd,  yields  near  Gallon  for  Gallon.  Their 
molosses  comes  from  the  same  country,  and  has  the  name  of 
"Long  Sugar"  in  Carolina,  I  suppose  from  the  Ropiness  of  it, 
and  Serves  all  the  purposes  of  Sugar,  both  in  their  Eating  and 
Drinking. 

When  they  entertain  their  Friends  bountifully,  they  fail  not  to 
set  before  them  a  Capacious  Bowl  of  Bombo,  so  call'd  from  the 
Admiral  of  that  name.  This  is  a  Compound  of  Rum  and  Water  in 
Equal  Parts,  made  palatable  with  the  said  long  Sugar.  As  good 
Humour  begins  to  flow,  and  the  Bowl  to  Ebb,  they  take  care  to 
replenish  it  with  Shear  Rum,  of  which  there  always  is  a  Reserve 
under  the  Table.  But  such  Generous  doings  happen  only  when 
that  Balsam  of  Life  is  plenty;  for  they  have  often  such  Melan 
choly  times,  that  neither  Land-graves  nor  Cassicks  can  procure 
one  drop  for  their  Wives,  when  they  ly  in,  or  are  troubled  with  the 
Colick  or  Vapours.  Very  few  in  this  Country  have  the  Industry 
to  plant  Orchards,  which,  in  a  Dearth  of  Rum,  might  supply  them 
with  much  better  Liquor. 

The  Truth  is,  there  is  one  Inconvenience  that  easily  discour 
ages  lazy  People  from  making  This  improvement:  very  often,  in 
Autumn,  when  the  Apples  begin  to  ripen,  they  are  visited  with 
Numerous  Flights  of  paraqueets,  that  bite  all  the  fruit  to  Pieces  in 
a  moment,  for  the  sake  of  the  Kernels.  The  Havock  they  make 
is  Sometimes  so  great,  that  whole  Orchards  are  laid  waste  in  Spite 
of  all  the  Noises  that  can  be  made,  or  Mawkins  that  can  be  dresst 
up,  to  fright  'em  away.  These  Ravenous  Birds  visit  North  Caro 
lina  only  during  the  warm  Season,  and  so  soon  as  the  Cold  begins 
to  come  on,  retire  back  towards  the  Sun.  They  rarely  Venture 
so  far  North  as  Virginia,  except  in  a  very  hot  Summer,  when  they 
visit  the  most  Southern  Parts  of  it.  They  are  very  Beautiful; 
but  like  some  other  pretty  Creatures,  are  apt  to  be  loud  and  mis 
chievous. 


WILLIAM   BYRD  269 

27.  Betwixt  this  and  Edenton  there  are  many  thuckleberry 
Slashes,  which  afford  a  convenient  Harbour  for  Wolves  and  Foxes. 
The  first  of  these  wild  Beasts  is  not  so  large  and  fierce  as  they  are 
in  other  countries  more  Northerly.  He  will  not  attack  a  Man  in 
the  keenest  of  his  Hunger,  but  run  away  from  him,  as  from  an 
Animal  more  mischievous  than  himself. 

The  Foxes  are  much  bolder,  and  will  Sometimes  not  only  make 
a  Stand,  but  likewise  assault  any  one  that  would  balk  them  of 
their  Prey.  The  Inhabitants  hereabouts  take  the  trouble  to  dig 
abundance  of  Wolf-Pits,  so  deep  and  perpendicular,  that  when 
a  \Volf  is  once  tempted  into  them,  he  can  no  more  Scramble  out 
again,  than  a  Husband  who  has  taken  the  Leap  can  Scramble  out 
of  Matrimony. 

Most  of  the  Houses  in  this  Part  of  the  Country  are  Log-houses, 
covered  with  Pine  or  Cypress  Shingles,  3  feet  long,  and  one  broad. 
They  are  hung  upon  Laths  with  Peggs,  and  their  doors  too  turn 
upon  Wooden  Hinges,  and  have  wooden  Locks  to  Secure  them, 
so  that  the  Building  is  finisht  without  Nails  or  other  Iron -Work. 
They  also  set  up  their  Pales  without  any  Nails  at  all,  and  indeed 
more  Securely  than  those  that  are  nail'd.  There  are  3  Rails  mor 
tised  into  the  Posts,  the  lowest  of  which  serves  as  a  Sill  with  a 
Groove  in  the  Middle,  big  enough  to  receive  the  End  of  the  Pales : 
the  middle  Part  of  the  Pale  rests  against  the  Inside  of  the  Next 
Rail,  and  the  Top  of  it  is  brought  forward  to  the  outside  of  the 
uppermost.  Such  Wreathing  of  the  Pales  in  and  out  makes  them 
stand  firm,  and  much  harder  to  unfix  than  when  nail'd  in  the 
Ordinary  way. 

Within  3  or  4  Miles  of  Edenton,  the  Soil  appears  to  be  a  little 
more  fertile,  tho'  it  is  much  cut  with  Slashes,  which  seem  all  to 
have  a  tendency  towards  the  Dismal. 

This  Town  is  Situate  on  the  North  side  of  Albemarle  Sound, 
which  is  there  about  5  miles  over.  A  Dirty  Slash  runs  all  along 
the  Back  of  it,  which  in  the  Summer  is  a  foul  annoyance,  and 
furnishes  abundance  of  that  Carolina  plague,  musquetas.  There 
may  be  40  or  50  Houses,  most  of  them  Small,  and  built  without 
Expense.  A  Citizen  here  is  counted  Extravagant,  if  he  has  Am 
bition  enough  to  aspire  to  a  Brick-chimney.  Justice  herself  is 
but  indifferently  Lodged,  the  Court-House  having  much  the  Air 


270  EARLY   AMERICAN    WRITERS 

of  a  Common  Tobacco-House.  I  believe  this  is  the  only  Me 
tropolis  in  the  Christian  or  Mahometan  World,  where  there  is 
neither  Church,  Chappel,  Mosque,  Synagogue,  or  any  other  Place 
of  Publick  Worship  of  any  Sect  or  Religion  whatsoever. 


ON  THE  ALLIGATOR 

[From  "  The  History  of  the  Dividing  Line  "] 

In  Santee  river,  as  in  Several  others  of  Carolina,  a  Small  kind 
of  allegator  is  frequently  seen,  which  perfumes  the  Water  with  a 
Musky  Smell.  They  Seldom  exceed  Eight  Feet  in  Length  in 
these  parts,  whereas,  near  the  Equinoctial,  they  come  up  to  twelve 
or  Fourteen.  And  the  heat  of  the  Climate  don't  only  make  them 
bigger,  but  more  Fierce  and  Voracious.  They  watch  the  Cattle 
there  when  they  come  to  drink  and  Cool  themselves  in  the  River; 
and  because  they  are  not  able  to  drag  them  into  the  Deep  Water, 
they  make  up  by  Strategem  what  they  want  in  Force.  They 
Swallow  great  Stones,  the  Weight  of  which  being  added  to  their 
Strength,  enables  them  to  tug  a  Moderate  Cow  under  Water, 
and  as  soon  as  they  have  drown'd  her,  they  discharge  the  Stones 
out  of  their  Maw  and  then  feast  upon  the  Carcass.  However, 
as  Fierce  and  Strong  as  these  Monsters  are,  the  Indians  will  sur 
prise  them  Napping  as  they  float  upon  the  Surface,  get  astride 
upon  their  Necks,  then  whip  a  short  piece  of  wood  like  a  Trun 
cheon  into  their  Jaws,  &  holding  the  Ends  with  their  two  hands, 
hinder  them  from  diving  by  keeping  their  mouths  open,  and  when 
they  are  almost  Spent,  they  will  make  to  the  shoar,  where  their 
Riders  knock  them  on  the  Head  and  Eat  them.  This  Amphibious 
Animal  is  a  Smaller  kind  of  Crocodile,  having  the  Same  Shape 
exactly,  only  the  Crocodile  of  the  Nile  is  twice  as  long,  being  when 
full  grown  from  20  to  Thirty  Feet.  This  Enormous  Length  is  the 
more  to  be  wonder'd  at,  because  the  Crocodile  is  hatcht  from  an 
Egg  very  little  larger  than  that  of  a  Goose.  It  has  a  long  Head, 
which  it  can  open  very  wide,  with  very  Sharp  &  Strong  teeth. 
Their  Eyes  are  Small,  their  Legs  Short,  with  Claws  upon  their  Feet. 
Their  Tail  makes  half  the  Length  of  their  Body,  and  the  whole  is 
guarded  with  hard  impenetrable  Scales,  except  the  Belly,  which 


WILLIAM   BYRD  271 

is  much  Softer  and  Smoother.  They  keep  much  upon  the  Land 
in  the  day  time,  but  towards  the  Evening  retire  into  the  Water  to 
avoid  the  Cold  Dews  of  the  Night.  They  run  pretty  fast  right 
forward,  but  are  very  awkward  and  Slow  in  turning,  by  reason  of 
their  unwieldy  Length.  It  is  an  Error  that  they  have  no  Tongue, 
without  which  they  cou'd  hardly  Swallow  their  Food ;  but  in  eating 
they  move  the  upper  Jaw  only,  Contrary  to  all  other  Animals. 
The  way  of  catching  them  in  Egypt  is,  with  a  Strong  Hook  fixt 
to  the  End  of  a  chain,  and  baited  with  a  joynt  of  Pork,  which  they 
are  very  fond  of.  But  a  live  Hog  is  generally  tyed  near,  the  Cry 
of  which  allures  them  to  the  Hook.  This  Account  of  the  Croco 
dile  will  agree  in  most  particulars  with  the  Alligator,  only  the 
Bigness  of  the  last  cannot  entitle  it  to  the  Name  of  "Leviathan," 
wrhich  Job  gave  formerly  to  the  crocodile,  and  not  to  the  Whale, 
as  some  Interpreters  wou'd  make  us  believe. 

DRAWING   A   TOOTH 

[From  "A  Journey  to  the  Land  of  Eden  "] 

I  had  an  impertinent  Tooth  in  my  upper  Jaw,  that  had  been 
loose  for  some  time,  and  made  me  chew  with  great  Caution. 
Particularly  I  cou'd  not  grind  a  Biscuit  but  with  much  deliberation 
and  presence  of  mind.  Tooth-Drawers  we  had  none  amongst  us, 
nor  any  of  the  Instruments  they  make  use  of,  However,  Invention 
supply'd  this  want  very  happily,  and  I  contriv'd  to  get  rid  of  this 
troublesome  Companion  by  cutting  a  Caper.  I  caused  a  Twine 
to  be  fasten'd  round  the  Root  of  my  Tooth,  about  a  Fathom  in 
Length,  and  then  ty'd  the  other  End  to  the  Snag  of  a  Log  that  lay 
upon  the  ground,  in  such  a  Manner  that  I  cou'd  just  stand  upright. 
Having  adjusted  my  String  in  this  manner,  I  bent  my  Knees  enough 
to  enable  me  to  spring  vigorously  off  the  Ground,  as  perpendicularly 
as  I  cou'd.  The  force  of  the  Leap  drew  out  the  Tooth  with  so 
much  ease  that  I  felt  nothing  of  it,  nor  should  have  believ'd  it 
was  come  away,  unless  I  had  seen  it  dangling  at  the  End  of  the 
String.  An  Under  tooth  may  be  fecht  out  by  standing  off  the 
Ground  and  fastning  your  String  at  due  distance  above  you. 
And  having  so  fixt  your  Gear,  jump  off  your  Standing,  and  the 


272  EARLY   AMERICAN    WRITERS 

weight  of  your  Body,  added  to  the  force  of  the  Spring,  will  poize 
out  your  Tooth  with  less  pain  than  any  Operator  upon  Earth 
cou'd  draw  it.  This  new  way  of  Tooth-drawing,  being  so  silently 
and  deliberately  perform'd,  both  surprized  and  delighted  all  that 
were  present,  who  cou'd  not  guess  what  I  was  going  about.  I  im 
mediately  found  the  benefit  of  getting  rid  of  this  troublesome 
Companion,  by  eating  my  Supper  with  more  comfort  than  I  had 
done  during  the  whole  Expedition. 


JOHN    SECCOMB 

[John  Seccomb,  a  Harvard  graduate  of  1728,  long  a  Congregationalist 
minister  in  Massachusetts  and  Nova  Scotia,  was  the  author  of  "Father 
Abbey's  Will" — a  literary  curiosity  concerning  which  the  most  curious 
fact  is  its  contemporary  popularity.  It  was  probably  written  while  Seccomb 
was  a  divinity  student  at  Harvard,  and  was  inspired  by  the  death  of  one 
Matthew  Abdy,  a  bedmaker  and  bottlewasher  for  the  college.  It  was  sent 
to  England,  and  appeared  in  both  the  London  Magazine  and  the  Gentleman's 
Magazine  for  May,  1732.  The  poem,  as  given  below,  is  from  the  London 
Magazine.  The  version  in  the  Gentleman's  Magazine  is  the  same,  with  a 
few  minor  variations,  mostly  in  capitalization.  An  American  reprint  of 
later  date,  entitled  "Father  Abbey's  Will,"  is  prefixed  by  an  explanatory 
note  dated  "December,  1730,"  and  closes  with  the  quatrain:  — 

"Thus  father  Abbey  left  his  spouse, 
As  rich  as  church  or  college  mouse, 
Which  is  sufficient  invitation, 
To  serve  the  college  in  his  station." 

In  the  London  Magazine  for  August,  1732,  appeared  another  attempt  in  the 
same  metre,  purporting  to  be  a  proposal  of  marriage  from  the  bedmaker  at 
Yale  to  "Mistress  Abbey."  This  is  also  credited  to  Seccomb. 

At  first  sight  it  seems  hard  to  account  for  the  publication  of  this  dog 
gerel  in  the  two  leading  English  magazines  of  the  day.  Professor  Tyler, 
in  his  perplexity  over  this  matter,  remarks  that  "It  seems  to  have  been 
widely  read  in  the  mother-country  as  a  just  specimen  of  the  poetic  attain 
ments  and  of  the  general  literary  taste  of  the  Americans."  An  examination 
of  the  position  that  the  poem  holds  in  the  magazines  tends  to  throw  doubt 
on  this  statement.  In  both  it  appears  anonymously  and  without  any  re 
mark  as  to  the  nationality  of  the  author.  In  both  it  is  among  other  verse 
effusions,  presumably  by  Englishmen,  which  are  not  markedly  superior  in 
refinement  or  wit.  Perhaps  its  popularity  must  be  taken  only  as  a  reminder 
that  taste  in  humor,  even  more  than  in  other  forms  of  aesthetic  expression, 
has  changed  since  1730.] 


273 


274  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

THE    LAST    WILL    OF    MR.   MATTHEW   A Y    OF 

NEW-ENGLAND 

To  my  dear  wife 

My  joy  and  life, 
I  freely  now  do  give  her 

My  whole  estate, 

With  all  my  plate, 
Being  just  about  to  leave  her. 

A  tub  of  soap, 

A  long  cart  rope, 
A  frying  pan  &  kettle, 

An  ashen  pail, 

A  threshing  flail, 
An  iron  wedge  and  beetle. 

Two  painted  chairs, 

Nine  warden  pears, 
A  large  old  dripping  platter, 

The  bed  of  hay 

On  which  I  lay, 
An  old  sauce-pan  for  butter. 

A  little  mug, 

A  two-quart  jug, 
A  bottle  full  of  brandy, 

A  looking-glass 

To  see  your  face, 
You'll  find  it  very  handy. 

A  musket  true 

As  ever  flew, 
A  pound  of  shot  &  wallet, 

A  leather  sash 

My  calabash, 
My  powder-horn  and  bullet. 


JOHN  SECCOMB  275 

An  old  sword  blade, 

A  garden  spade, 
A  hoe,  a  rake,  a  ladder, 

A  wooden  can, 

A  close-stool  pan, 
A  clyster-pipe  &  bladder. 

A  greasy  hat, 

My  old  ram-cat, 
A  yard  and  half  of  linnen, 

A  pot  of  grease, 

A  woollen  fleece, 
In  order  for  your  spinning. 

A  small- tooth  comb, 

An  ashen  broom, 
A  candlestick  &  hatchet, 

A  coverlid, 

Strip'd  down  with  red, 
A  bag  of  rags  to  patch  it. 

A  ragged  mat, 

A  tub  of  fat, 
A  book  put  out  by  Bunyan, 

Another  book 

By  Robin  Rook, 
A  skain  or  two  of  spunyarn. 

An  old  black  muff, 

Some  garden  stuff, 
A  quantity  of  borrage, 

Some  devil's  weed, 

And  burdock  seed, 
To  season  well  your  porridge. 

A  chafing  dish 
With  one  salt  fish, 
If  I  am  not  mistaken, 


276  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

A  leg  of  pork, 
A  broken  fork, 
And  half  a  flitch  of  Bacon. 

A  spinning  wheel, 

One  peck  of  meal, 
A  knife  without  a  handle, 

A  rusty  lamp, 

Two  quarts  of  samp, 
And  half  a  tallow  candle. 

My  pouch  and  pipes, 

Two  oxen  tripes, 
An  oaken  dish  well  carved; 

My  little  dog, 

And  spotted  hog, 
With  two  young  pigs  just  starved. 

This  is  my  store, 

I  have  no  more, 
I  heartily  do  give  it. 

My  years  are  spun, 

My  days  are  done, 
And  so  I  think  to  leave  it. 


JONATHAN   EDWARDS 

[Jonathan  Edwards  was  born  in  1703,  the  son  of  a  Connecticut  clergyman. 
He  was  extremely  precocious,  and  early  showed  especial  interest  in  philoso 
phy  and  in  natural  science.  He  was  graduated  from  Yale  in  1720,  and 
studied  divinity.  After  preaching  a  few  months  in  New  York,  and  serving 
as  tutor  in  Yale  for  two  years,  he  accepted  a  call  to  Northampton,  Mass. 
Here  he  remained  for  nearly  twenty-four  years  as  colleague  pastor  and  pas 
tor,  when  some  differences  with  his  congregation  resulted  in  what  was  then 
the  very  unusual  procedure  of  his  dismissal.  He  then  retired  to  Stock- 
bridge,  Mass.,  as  a  missionary  to  the  Indians.  In  1758  he  became  president 
of  Princeton  College,  but  died  from  the  small-pox  just  after  he  had  entered 
on  the  duties  of  his  office. 

Jonathan  Edwards  was  probably  the  ablest  of  the  early  New  England 
divines,  and  he  illustrates  in  a  peculiar  way  the  influence  of  the  New  Eng 
land  intellectual  life  on  character.  He  possessed  fine  sensibilities,  and  if  one 
may  judge  by  much  of  his  prose,  he  had  an  artist's  sense  of  form.  The 
awfulness  of  the  logical  consequences  of  his  religious  faith  at  first  repelled 
him,  but  he  became  reconciled  to  them  by  sheer  force  of  intellect  and  will, 
and  made  their  inculcation  and  defence  the  work  of  his  life.  So  it  came 
about  that  the  man  who  perhaps  possessed  the  finest  poetic  nature  in  early 
New  England  produced  no  poems,  but  on  the  one  hand,  the  greatest  philo 
sophical  treatise  written  by  an  American,  and  on  the  other,  the  most  vivid 
and  appalling  of  the  many  sermons  that  pictured  eternal  torment. 

Edwards's  greatest  work  is  "A  careful  and  strict  Enquiry  into  the  modern 
prevailing  Notions  of  that  Freedom  of  Will,  which  is  supposed  to  be 
essential  to  Moral  Agency,  Vertue  and  Vice,  Reward  and  Punishment,  Praise 
and  Blame"  —  commonly  known  by  the  shorter  title  of  "Treatise  on  the 
Freedom  of  the  Will."  Even  those  who  disagree  with  his  conclusions  have 
generally  conceded  the  great  power  of  original  thought  shown  in  this  work, 
and  its  fairness  and  clarity  of  statement.  Besides  this,  he  produced  a  num 
ber  of  other  theological  writings,  including  a  "Treatise  on  the  Religious 
Affections,"  a  "Treatise  on  Original  Sin,"  "The  History  of  Redemption," 
etc.  During  his  ministry  at  Northampton  he  was  connected  with  the  begin 
nings  of  the  revival  movement  later  known  as  "The  Great  Awakening," 
and  in  consequence  he  wrote  "A  Faithful  Narrative  of  the  Surprizing  Work 
of  God  in  the  Conversion  of  Many  Hundred  Souls  in  Northampton,  and 
the  Neighbouring  Towns  and  Villages  of  New-Hampshire  in  New-Eng 
land  "  (sometimes  known  as  "Narratives  of  Surprising  Conversions"),  and 
"Thoughts  on  the  Revival  of  Religion  in  New  England  in  1740."  A  con 
siderable  number  of  his  own  sermons  are  calculated  to  stir  his  hearers  by 

277 


278  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

presenting  the  terrors  of  future  punishment.  The  most  famous,  though 
hardly  the  most  powerful  or  most  representative  of  these,  is  entitled  "Sinners 
in  the  Hands  of  an  Angry  God."  It  must  not  be  inferred,  however,  that  the 
greater  part  of  Edwards's  preaching  was  of  this  character.  Even  these 
damnatory  sermons  have  a  logical  structure  and  a  solid  basis  of  thought 
that  makes  them  far  more  than  blind  appeals  to  feeling.  It  is  unfortunate 
that  the  limits  of  the  present  work  forbid  the  inclusion  of  one  of  the  sermons 
entire,  since  the  wonderful  force  and  clearness  of  the  preacher's  method  can 
be  seen  only  by  reading  a  discourse  as  a  whole. 

The  great  bulk  of  Jonathan  Edwards's  writings  was  left  in  manuscript  at 
the  time  of  his  death.  Many  of  his  works  were  first  published  in  Edinburgh, 
where  he  was  admired  as  one  of  the  greatest  supporters  of  Calvinism.  The 
first  collected  edition  of  his  works  in  America  was  published  in  1809. 

The  account  of  religious  experiences  is  from  a  manuscript  found 
among  the  author's  papers,  and  printed  in  Dwight's  "Life  of  Edwards." 
The  selection  from  the  "Faithful  Narrative,"  etc.,  is  from  the  second  edi 
tion,  London,  1738;  that  from  the  "Treatise  on  the  Freedom  of  the  Will" 
is  from  the  first  edition,  Boston,  1754.  The  selection  from  the  Sermons 
follows  the  edition  of  1844,  which,  like  all  the  collected  editions,  modernizes 
the  text.] 

EARLY  RELIGIOUS  EXPERIENCES 

[From  a  private  manuscript] 

From  my  childhood  up,  my  mind  had  been  full  of  objections 
against  the  doctrine  of  God's  sovereignty,  in  choosing  whom  he 
would  to  eternal  life,  and  rejecting  whom  he  pleased;  leaving 
them  eternally  to  perish,  and  be  everlastingly  tormented  in  hell. 
It  used  to  appear  like  a  horrible  doctrine  to  me.  But  I  remember 
the  time  very  well,  when  I  seemed  to  be  convinced,  and  fully 
satisfied,  as  to  this  sovereignty  of  God,  and  his  justice  in  thus 
eternally  disposing  of  men,  according  to  his  sovereign  pleasure. 
But  never  could  give  an  account,  how,  or  by  what  means,  I  was 
thus  convinced,  not  in  the  least  imagining  at  the  time,  nor  a  long 
time  after,  that  there  was  any  extraordinary  influence  of  God's 
Spirit  in  it;  but  only  that  now  I  saw  further,  and  my  reason 
apprehended  the  justice  and  reasonableness  of  it.  However,  my 
mind  rested  in  it ;  and  it  put  an  end  to  all  those  cavils  and  objec 
tions.  And  there  has  been  a  wonderful  alteration  in  my  mind, 
with  respect  to  the  doctrine  of  God's  sovereignty,  from  that  day 
to  this;  so  that  I  scarce  ever  have  found  so  much  as  the  rising 
of  an  objection  against  it,  in  the  most  absolute  sense,  in  God 


JONATHAN  EDWARDS  279 

shewing  mercy  to  whom  he  will  shew  mercy,  and  hardening 
whom  he  will.  God's  absolute  sovereignty  and  justice,  with 
respect  to  salvation  and  damnation,  is  what  my  mind  seems  to 
rest  assured  of,  as  much  as  of  any  thing  that  I  see  with  my  eyes ; 
at  least  it  is  so  at  times.  But  I  have  often,  since  that  first  con 
viction,  had  quite  another  kind  of  sense  of  God's  sovereignty 
than  I  had  then.  I  have  often  since  had  not  only  a  conviction, 
but  a  delightful  conviction.  The  doctrine  has  very  often  ap 
peared  exceedingly  pleasant,  bright,  and  sweet.  Absolute  sov 
ereignty  is  what  I  love  to  ascribe  to  God.  But  my  first  convic 
tion  was  not  so. 

The  first  instance,  that  I  remember,  of  that  sort  of  inward, 
sweet  delight  in  God  and  divine  things,  that  I  have  lived  much 
in  since,  was  on  reading  those  words,  i  Tim.  i.  17.  Now  unto 
the  King  eternal,  immortal,  invisible,  the  only  wise  God,  be  honour 
and  glory  for  ever  and  ever,  Amen.  As  I  read  the  words,  there 
came  into  my  soul,  and  was  as  it  were  diffused  through  it,  a 
sense  of  the  glory  of  the  Divine  Being ;  a  new  sense,  quite  different 
from  any  thing  I  ever  experienced  before.  Never  any  words  of 
Scripture  seemed  to  me  as  these  words  did.  I  thought  with  my 
self,  how  excellent  a  Being  that  was,  and  how  happy  I  should 
be,  if  I  might  enjoy  that  God,  and  be  rapt  up  to  him  in  heaven, 
and  be  as  it  were  swallowed  up  in  him  for  ever !  I  kept  saying, 
and  as  it  were  singing,  over  these  words  of  scripture  to  myself; 
and  went  to  pray  to  God  that  I  might  enjoy  him,  and  prayed  in 
a  manner  quite  different  from  what  I  used  to  do;  with  a  new 
sort  of  affection.  But  it  never  came  into  my  thought,  that  there 
was  any  thing  spiritual,  or  of  a  saving  nature  in  this. 

From  about  that  time,  I  began  to  have  a  new  kind  of  appre 
hensions  and  ideas  of  Christ,  and  the  work  of  redemption,  and 
the  glorious  way  of  salvation  by  him.  An  inward,  sweet  sense 
of  these  things,  at  times,  came  into  my  heart;  and  my  soul  was 
led  away  in  pleasant  views  and  contemplations  of  them.  And 
my  mind  was  greatly  engaged  to  spend  my  time  in  reading  and 
meditating  on  Christ,  on  the  beauty  and  excellency  of  his  per 
son,  and  the  lovely  way  of  salvation  by  free  grace  in  him.  I 
found  no  books  so  delightful  to  me,  as  those  that  treated  of  these 
subjects.  Those  words  Cant.  ii.  i.  used  to  be  abundantly  with 


280  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

me,  I  am  the  Rose  of  Sharon,  and  the  Lily  of  the  valleys.  The 
words  seemed  to  me,  sweetly  to  represent  the  loveliness  and 
beauty  of  Jesus  Christ.  The  whole  book  of  Canticles  used  to  be 
pleasant  to  me,  and  I  used  to  be  much  in  reading  it,  about  that 
time;  and  found,  from  time  to  time,  an  inward  sweetness,  that 
would  carry  me  away,  in  my  contemplations.  This  I  know  not 
how  to  express  otherwise,  than  by  a  calm,  sweet  abstraction  of 
soul  from  all  the  concerns  of  this  world;  and  sometimes  a  kind 
of  vision,  or  fixed  ideas  and  imaginations,  of  being  alone  in  the 
mountains,  or  some  solitary  wilderness,  far  from  all  mankind, 
sweetly  conversing  with  Christ,  and  wrapt  and  swallowed  up  in 
God.  The  sense  I  had  of  divine  things,  would  often  of  a  sudden 
kindle  up,  as  it  were,  a  sweet  burning  in  my  heart;  an  ardour 
of  soul,  that  I  know  not  how  to  express. 

Not  long  after  I  first  began  to  experience  these  things,  I  gave 
an  account  to  my  father  of  some  things  that  had  passed  in  my 
mind.  I  was  pretty  much  affected  by  the  discourse  we  had 
together;  and  when  the  discourse  was  ended,  I  walked  abroad 
alone,  in  a  solitary  place  in  my  father's  pasture,  for  contempla 
tion.  And  as  I  was  walking  there,  and  looking  upon  the  sky 
and  clouds,  there  came  into  my  mind  so  sweet  a  sense  of  the 
glorious  majesty  and  grace  of  God,  as  I  know  not  how  to  express. 
—  I  seemed  to  see  them  both  in  a  sweet  conjunction ;  majesty 
and  meekness  joined  together:  it  was  a  sweet,  and  gentle,  and 
holy  majesty;  and  also  a  majestic  meekness;  an  awful  sweet 
ness  ;  a  high,  and  great,  and  holy  gentleness. 

After  this  my  sense  of  divine  things  gradually  increased,  and 
became  more  and  more  lively,  and  had  more  of  that  inward 
sweetness.  The  appearance  of  every  thing  was  altered;  there 
seemed  to  be,  as  it  were,  a  calm,  sweet,  cast,  or  appearance  of 
divine  glory,  in  almost  everything.  God's  excellency,  his  wis 
dom,  his  purity  and  love,  seemed  to  appear  in  every  thing;  in 
the  sun,  moon  and  stars;  in  the  clouds  and  blue  sky;  in  the 
grass,  flowers,  trees;  in  the  water  and  all  nature;  which  used 
greatly  to  fix  my  mind.  I  often  used  to  sit  and  view  the  moon 
for  a  long  time;  and  in  the  day,  spent  much  time  in  viewing  the 
clouds  and  sky,  to  behold  the  sweet  glory  of  God  in  these  things : 
in  the  meantime,  singing  forth,  with  a  low  voice,  my  contempla- 


JONATHAN   EDWARDS  281 

tions  of  the  Creator  and  Redeemer.  And  scarce  any  thing, 
among  all  the  works  of  nature,  was  so  sweet  to  me  as  thunder 
and  lightening;  formerly  nothing  had  been  so  terrible  to  me. 
Before,  I  used  to  be  uncommonly  terrified  with  thunder,  and  to 
be  struck  with  terror  when  I  saw  a  thunder-storm  rising;  but 
now,  on  the  contrary,  it  rejoiced  me.  I  felt  God,  if  I  may  so 
speak,  at  the  first  appearance  of  a  thunder  storm;  and  used  to 
take  the  opportunity,  at  such  times,  to  fix  myself  in  order  to  view 
the  clouds,  and  see  the  lightnings  play,  and  hear  the  majestic 
and  awful  voice  of  God's  thunder,  which  oftentimes  was  exceed 
ingly  entertaining,  leading  me  to  sweet  contemplations  of  my 
great  and  glorious  God.  While  thus  engaged,  it  always  seemed 
natural  for  me  to  sing,  or  chant  forth  my  meditations;  or,  to 
speak  my  thoughts  in  soliloquies  with  a  singing  voice. 

ON  FUTURE  PUNISHMENT 

[From  "The  Future  Punishment  of  the  Wicked  Unavoidable  and 
Intolerable"1] 

I  come  now, 

III.  To  show  that  as  impenitent  sinners  cannot  shun  the 
threatened  punishment;  so  neither  can  they  do  any  thing  to 
deliver  themselves  from  it,  or  to  relieve  themselves  under  it. 
This  is  implied  in  those  words  of  the  text,  Can  thine  hands  be 
strong  ?  It  is  with  our  hands  that  we  make  and  accomplish  things 
for  ourselves.  But  the  wicked  in  hell  will  have  no  strength  of 
hand  to  accomplish  any  thing  at  all  for  themselves,  or  to  bring 
to  pass  any  deliverance,  or  any  degree  of  relief. 

i.  They  will  not  be  able  in  that  conflict  to  overcome  their 
enemy,  and  so  to  deliver  themselves.  God,  who  will  then  under- 

[*  The  text  of  this  sermon  was  Ezekiel  xxii.  14.  The  plan  is  thus  indicated  by 
the  author :  — 

"Doctrine. 

"Since  God  hath  undertaken  to  deal  with  impenitent  sinners,  they  shall  neither 
shun  the  threatened  misery,  nor  deliver  themselves  out  of  it,  nor  can  they  bear  it. 

"In  handling  this  doctrine,  I  shall,  i.  Show  what  is  implied  in  God's  under 
taking  to  deal  with  impenitent  sinners.  2.  That  therefore  they  cannot  avoid 
punishment.  3.  That  they  cannot  in  any  measure  deliver  themselves  from  it, 
or  do  anything  for  their  own  relief  under  it.  4.  That  they  cannot  bear  it.  5.  I 
shall  answer  an  inquiry;  and  then  proceed  to  the  use."] 


282  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

take  to  deal  with  them,  and  will  gird  himself  with  might  to  exe 
cute  wrath,  will  be  their  enemy,  and  will  act  the  part  of  an  enemy 
with  a  witness;  and  they  will  have  no  strength  to  oppose  him. 
Those  who  live  negligent  of  their  souls  under  the  light  of  the 
gospel,  act  as  if  they  supposed  that  they  should  be  able  hereafter 
to  make  their  part  good  with  God.  i  Cor.  x.  22,  "Do  we  pro 
voke  the  Lord  to  jealousy?  Are  we  stronger  than  he?"  —  But 
they  will  have  no  power,  no  might  to  resist  that  omnipotence, 
which  will  be  engaged  against  them. 

2.  They  will  have  no  strength  in  their  hands  to  do  any  thing 
to  appease  God,  or  in  the  least  to  abate  the  fierceness  of  his  wrath. 
They  will  not  be  able  to  offer  any  satisfaction:   they  will  not  be 
able  to  procure  God's  pity.     Though  they  cry,   God  will  not 
hear  them.     They  will  find  no  price  to  offer  to  God,  in  order  to 
purchase  any  favor,  or  to  pay  any  part  of  their  debt. 

3.  They  will  not  be  able  to  find  any  to  befriend  them,  and 
intercede  with  God  for  them.     They  had  the  offer  of  a  mediator 
often  made  them  in  this  world;   but  they  will  have  no  offers  of 
such  a  nature  in  hell.     None  will  befriend  them.     They  will 
have  no  friend  in  HELL;    all  there  will  be  their  enemies.     They 
will  have  no  friend  in  heaven:   none  of  the  saints  or  angels  will 
befriend  them;    or  if  they  should,  it  would  be  to  no  purpose. 
There  will  be  no  creature  that  will  have  any  power  to  deliver 
them,  nor  will  any  ever  pity  them. 

4.  Nor  will  they  ever  be  able  to  make  their  escape.     They 
will  find  no  means  to  break  prison  and  flee.     In  hell  they  will 
be  reserved  in  chains  of  darkness  forever  and  ever.     Malefactors 
have  often  found  means  to  break  prison,  and  escape  the  hand 
of  civil  justice.     But  none  ever  escaped  out  of  the  prison  of  hell, 
which  is  God's  prison.     It  is  a  strong  prison:    it  is  beyond  any 
finite  power,  or  the  united  strength  of  all  wicked  men  and  devils, 
to  unlock,  or  break  open  the  door  of  that  prison.     Christ  hath 
the  key  of  hell;  "he  shuts  and  no  man  opens." 

5.  Nor  will  they  ever  be  able  to  find  any  thing  to  relieve  them 
in  hell.     They  will  never  find  any  resting  place  there ;   any  place 
of  respite;   any  secret  corner,  which  will  be  cooler  than  the  rest, 
where  they  may  have  a  little  respite,  a  small  abatement  of  the 
extremity  of  their  torment.     They  never  will  be  able  to  find  any 


JONATHAN  EDWARDS  283 

cooling  stream  or  fountain,  in  any  part  of  that  world  of  torment ; 
no,  nor  so  much  as  a  drop  of  water  to  cool  their  tongues.  They 
will  find  no  company  to  give  them  any  comfort,  or  to  do  them 
the  least  good.  They  will  find  no  place,  where  they  can  remain, 
and  rest,  and  take  breath  for  one  minute:  for  they  will  be  tor 
mented  with  fire  and  brimstone;  and  will  have  no  rest  day  nor 
night  forever  and  ever. 

Thus  impenitent  sinners  will  be  able  neither  to  shun  the  punish 
ment  threatened,  nor  to  deliver  themselves  from  it,  nor  to  find 
any  relief  under  it. 

I  come  now, 

IV.  To  show,  that  neither  will  they  be  able  to  bear  it.  Neither 
will  their  hands  be  strong  to  deliver  themselves  from  it,  nor  will 
their  hearts  be  able  to  endure  it.  It  is  common  with  men,  when 
they  meet  with  calamities  in  this  world,  in  the  first  place  to  en 
deavor  to  shun  them.  But  if  they  find,  that  they  cannot  shun 
them,  then  after  they  are  come,  they  endeavor  to  deliver  them 
selves  from  them  as  soon  as  they  can ;  or  at  least,  to  order  things 
so,  as  to  deliver  themselves  in  some  degree.  But  if  they  find 
that  they  can  by  no  means  deliver  themselves,  and  see  that  the 
case  is  so  that  they  must  bear  them ;  then  they  set  themselves  to 
bear  them:  they  fortify  their  spirits,  and  take  up  a  resolution, 
that  they  will  support  themselves  under  them  as  well  as  they  can. 
They  clothe  themselves  with  all  the  resolution  and  courage  they 
are  masters  of,  to  keep  their  spirits  from  sinking  under  their 
calamities. 

But  it  will  be  utterly  in  vain  for  impenitent  sinners  to  think 
to  do  thus  with  respect  to  the  torments  of  hell.  They  will  not  be 
able  to  endure  them,  or  at  all  to  support  themselves  under  them: 
the  torment  will  be  immensely  beyond  their  strength.  What 
will  it  signify  for  a  worm,  which  is  about  to  be  pressed  under 
the  weight  of  some  great  rock,  to  be  let  fall  with  its  whole  weight 
upon  it,  to  collect  its  strength,  to  set  itself  to  bear  up  the  weight 
of  the  rock,  and  to  preserve  itself  from  being  crushed  by  it? 
Much  more  in  vain  will  it  be  for  a  poor  damned  soul,  to  en 
deavor  to  support  itself  under  the  weight  of  the  wrath  of  Almighty 
God.  What  is  the  strength  of  man,  who  is  but  a  worm,  to  sup 
port  himself  against  the  power  of  Jehovah,  and  against  the  fierce- 


284  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

ness  of  his  wrath?  What  is  man's  strength,  when  set  to  bear 
up  against  the  exertions  of  infinite  power?  Matt.  xxi.  44,  "Who 
soever  shall  fall  on  this  stone  shall  be  broken;  but  on  whomso 
ever  it  shall  fall,  it  will  grind  him  to  powder." 

When  sinners  hear  of  hell  torments,  they  sometimes  think 
with  themselves:  Well,  if  it  shall  come  to  that,  that  I  must  go 
to  hell,  I  will  bear  it  as  well  as  I  can:  as  if  by  clothing  them 
selves  with  resolution  and  firmness  of  mind,  they  would  be  able 
to  support  themselves  in  some  measure ;  when,  alas !  they  will 
have  no  resolution,  no  courage  at  all.  However  they  shall  have 
prepared  themselves,  and  collected  their  strength;  yet  as  soon 
as  they  shall  begin  to  feel  that  wrath,  their  hearts  will  melt  and 
be  as  water.  However  before  they  may  seem  to  harden  their 
hearts,  in  order  to  prepare  themselves  to  bear,  yet  the  first  moment 
they  feel  it,  their  hearts  will  become  like  wax  before  the  furnace. 
Their  courage  and  resolution  will  be  all  gone  in  an  instant;  it 
will  vanish  away  like  a  shadow  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye.  The 
stoutest  and  most  sturdy  will  have  no  more  courage  than  the 
feeblest  infant:  let  a  man  be  an  infant,  or  a  giant,  it  will  be  all 
one.  They  will  not  be  able  to  keep  alive  any  courage,  any  strength, 
any  comfort,  any  hope  at  all. 

I  come  now  as  was  proposed, 

V.  To  answer  an  inquiry  which  may  naturally  be  raised  con 
cerning  these  things. 

INQUIRY.  Some  may  be  ready  to  say,  If  this  be  the  case,  if 
impenitent  sinners  can  neither  shun  future  punishment,  nor  deliver 
themselves  from  it,  nor  bear  it;  then  what  will  become  of  them? 

ANSWER.  They  will  wholly  sink  down  into  eternal  death. 
There  will  be  that  sinking  of  heart,  of  which  we  now  cannot 
conceive.  We  see  how  it  is  with  the  body  when  in  extreme  pain. 
The  nature  of  the  body  will  support  itself  for  a  considerable  time 
under  very  great  pain,  so  as  to  keep  from  wholly  sinking.  There 
will  be  great  struggles,  lamentable  groans  and  panting,  and  it 
may  be  convulsions.  These  are  the  strugglings  of  nature  to  sup 
port  itself  under  the  extremity  of  the  pain.  There  is,  as  it  were, 
a  great  lothness  in  nature  to  yield  to  it;  it  cannot  bear  wholly  to 
sink. 

But  yet  sometimes  pain  of  body  is  so  very  extreme  and  ex- 


JONATHAN  EDWARDS  285 

quisite,  that  the  nature  of  the  body  cannot  support  itself  under 
it;  however  loth  it  may  be  to  sink,  yet  it  cannot  bear  the  pain; 
there  are  a  few  struggles,  and  throes,  and  pantings,  and  it  may 
be  a  shriek  or  two,  and  then  nature  yields  to  the  violence  of  the 
torments,  sinks  down,  and  the  body  dies.  This  is  the  death  of 
the  body.  So  it  will  be  with  the  soul  in  hell;  it  will  have  no 
strength  or  power  to  deliver  itself;  and  its  torment  and  horror 
will  be  so  great,  so  mighty,  so  vastly  disproportioned  to  its  strength, 
that  having  no  strength  in  the  least  to  support  itself,  although  it 
be  infinitely  contrary  to  the  nature  and  inclination  of  the  soul 
utterly  to  sink;  yet  it  will  sink,  it  will  utterly  and  totally  sink, 
without  the  least  degree  of  remaining  comfort,  or  strength,  or 
courage,  or  hope.  And  though  it  will  never  be  annihilated,  its 
being  and  perception  will  never  be  abolished;  yet  such  will  be 
the  infinite  depth  of  gloominess  that  it  will  sink  into,  that  it  will 
be  in  a  state  of  death,  eternal  death. 

The  nature  of  man  desires  happiness;  it  is  the  nature  of  the 
soul  to  crave  and  thirst  after  well-being ;  and  if  it  be  under  misery, 
it  eagerly  pants  after  relief;  and  the  greater  the  misery  is,  the 
more  eagerly  doth  it  struggle  for  help.  But  if  all  relief  be  with- 
holden,  all  strength  overborne,  all  support  utterly  gone;  then  it 
sinks  into  the  darkness  of  death. 

We  can  conceive  but  little  of  the  matter;  we  cannot  conceive 
what  that  sinking  of  the  soul  in  such  a  case  is.  But  to  help 
your  conception,  imagine  yourself  to  be  cast  into  a  fiery  oven, 
all  of  a  glowing  heat,  or  into  the  midst  of  a  glowing  brick-kiln, 
or  of  a  great  furnace,  where  your  pain  would  be  as  much  greater 
than  that  occasioned  by  accidentally  touching  a  coal  of  fire,  as 
the  heat  is  greater.  Imagine  also  that  your  body  were  to  lie 
there  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  full  of  fire,  as  full  within  and  with 
out  as  a  bright  coal  of  fire,  all  the  while  full  of  quick  sense;  what 
horror  would  you  feel  at  the  entrance  of  such  a  furnace!  And 
how  long  would  that  quarter  of  an  hour  seem  to  you !  If  it  were 
to  be  measured  by  a  glass,  how  long  would  the  glass  seem  to  be 
running!  And  after  you  had  endured  it  for  one  minute,  how 
overbearing  would  it  be  to  you  to  think  that  you  had  it  to  en 
dure  the  other  fourteen ! 

But  what  would  be  the  effect  on  your  soul,  if  you  knew  you 


286  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

must  lie  there  enduring  that  torment  to  the  full  for  twenty-four 
hours !  And  how  much  greater  would  be  the  effect,  if  you  knew 
you  must  endure  it  for  a  whole  year;  and  how  vastly  greater 
still,  if  you  knew  you  must  endure  it  for  a  thousand  years !  O 
then,  how  would  your  heart  sink,  if  you  thought,  if  you  knew, 
that  you  must  bear  it  forever  and  ever!  That  there  would  be 
no  end!  That  after  millions  of  millions  of  ages,  your  torment 
would  be  no  nearer  to  an  end,  than  ever  it  was;  and  that  you 
never,  never  should  be  delivered. 

But  your  torment  in  hell  will  be  immensely  greater  than  this 
illustration  represents.  How  then  will  the  heart  of  a  poor  creature 
sink  under  it !  How  utterly  inexpressible  and  inconceivable  must 
the  sinking  of  the  soul  be  in  such  a  case ! 

This  is  the  death  threatened  in  the  law.  This  is  dying  in  the 
highest  sense  of  the  word.  This  is  to  die  sensibly;  to  die  and 
know  it;  to  be  sensible  of  the  gloom  of  death.  This  is  to  be 
undone;  this  is  worthy  of  the  name  of  destruction.  This  sinking 
of  the  soul  under  an  infinite  weight,  which  it  cannot  bear,  is  the 
gloom  of  hell.  We  read  in  Scripture  of  the  blackness  of  dark 
ness;  this  is  it,  this  is  the  very  thing.  We  read  in  Scripture  of 
sinners  being  lost,  and  of  their  losing  their  souls :  this  is  the  thing 
intended;  this  is  to  lose  the  soul:  they  that  are  the  subjects  of 
this  are  utterly  lost. 

THE  CONVERSION  OF  A  CHILD 

[From  "A  Narrative  of  Surprising  Conversions"] 

But  I  now  proceed  to  the  other  Instance  that  I  would  give  an 
Account  of,  which  is  of  the  little  Child  fore-mentioned.  Her 
Name  is  Phebe  Bartlet,  Daughter  of  William  Bartlet.  I  shall  give 
the  Account  as  I  took  it  from  the  mouths  of  her  Parents,  whose 
Veracity  none  that  know  them  doubt  of. 

She  was  born  in  March,  in  the  year  1731.  About  the  latter 
end  of  April,  or  beginning  of  May,  1735,  she  was  greatly  affected 
by  the  talk  of  her  Brother,  who  had  been  hopefully  converted  a 
little  before,  at  about  eleven  years  of  Age,  and  then  seriously 
talked  to  her  about  the  great  Things  of  Religion.  Her  Parents  did 
not  know  of  it  at  that  time,  and  were  not  wont,  in  the  Counsels 


JONATHAN  EDWARDS  287 

they  gave  to  their  Children,  particularly  to  direct  themselves  to 
her,  by  reason  of  her  being  so  young,  and  as  they  supposed  not 
capable  of  Understanding:  but  after  her  Brother  had  talked  to 
her,  they  observed  her  very  earnestly  to  listen  to  the  Advice 
they  gave  to  the  other  Children;  and  she  was  observed  very 
constantly  to  retire,  several  times  in  a  Day,  as  was  concluded, 
for  secret  Prayer;  and  grew  more  and  more  engaged  in  Religion, 
and  was  more  frequent  in  her  Closet;  till  at  last  she  was  wont 
to  visit  it  five  or  six  times  in  a  Day:  and  was  so  engaged  in  it, 
that  nothing  would  at  any  Time  divert  her  from  her  stated  Closet 
Exercises.  Her  Mother  often  observed  and  watched  her,  when 
such  Things  occurr'd,  as  she  thought  most  likely  to  divert  her, 
either  by  putting  it  out  of  her  Thoughts,  or  otherwise  engaging 
her  Inclinations ;  but  never  could  observe  her  to  fail.  She  men- 
tion'd  some  very  remarkable  Instances. 

She  once  of  her  own  accord  spake  of  her  Unsuccessfulness,  in 
that  she  could  not  find  God,  or  to  that  purpose.  But  on  Thurs 
day,  the  last  Day  of  July,  about  the  middle  of  the  Day,  the  Child 
being  in  the  Closet,  where  it  used  to  retire,  its  Mother  heard  it 
speaking  aloud;  which  was  unusual,  and  never  had  been  ob 
served  before:  And  her  Voice  seemed  to  be  as  of  one  exceeding 
importunate  and  engaged;  but  her  Mother  could  distinctly  hear 
only  these  Words,  (spoken  in  her  childish  Manner,  but  seemed 
to  be  spoken  with  extraordinary  earnestness,  and  out  of  Distress 
of  Soul)  Pray  BLESSED  LORD  give  me  Salvation!  I  PRAY, 
BEG  pardon  all  my  Sins!  When  the  Child  had  done  Prayer, 
she  came  out  of  the  Closet,  and  came  and  sat  down  by  her  Mother, 
and  cried  out  aloud.  Her  Mother  very  earnestly  asked  her 
several  times,  what  the  matter  was,  before  she  would  make  any 
Answer;  but  she  continued  exceedingly  crying,  and  wreathing  her 
Body  to  and  fro,  like  one  in  Anguish  of  Spirit.  Her  Mother  then 
asked  her,  whether  she  was  afraid  that  God  would  not  give  her 
Salvation.  She  then  answered  yes,  I  am  afraid  I  shall  go  to  Hell! 
Her  Mother  then  endeavoured  to  quiet  her,  and  told  her  she  would 
not  have  her  cry,  she  must  be  a  good  Girl,  and  pray  every  Day, 
and  she  hoped  God  would  give  her  Salvation.  But  this  did  not 
quiet  her  at  all;  but  she  continued  thus  earnestly  crying  and 
taking  on  for  some  time,  till  at  length  she  suddenly  ceased  crying, 


288  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

and  began  to  smile,  and  presently  said  with  a  smiling  Coun 
tenance,  Mother,  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  is  come  to  me!  Her 
Mother  was  surprised  at  the  sudden  Alteration,  and  at  the  Speech ; 
and  knew  not  what  to  make  of  it,  but  at  first  said  nothing  to  her. 
The  Child  presently  spake  again,  and  said,  there  is  another  come 
to  me,  and  there  is  another,  there  is  three;  and  being  asked  what 
she  meant,  she  answered,  one  is,  Thy  will  be  done,  and  there  is 
another,  Enjoy  him  for  ever;  by  which  it  seems  that  when  the 
Child  said  there  is  three  come  to  me,  she  meant  three  Passages  of 
its  Catechism  that  came  to  her  Mind. 

After  the  Child  had  said  this,  she  retired  again  into  her  Closet ; 
and  her  Mother  went  over  to  her  Brother's,  who  was  next  Neigh 
bour;  and  when  she  came  back,  the  Child,  being  come  out  of 
the  Closet,  meets  her  Mother  with  this  chearful  Speech,  7  can 
find  God  now!  referring  to  what  she  had  before  complained  of 
that  she  could  not  find  God.  Then  the  Child  spoke  again,  and 
said,  7  love  God!  her  Mother  asked  her,  how  well  she  loved  God, 
whether  she  loved  God  better  than  her  Father  and  Mother,  she 
said  yes.  Then  she  asked  her  whether  she  loved  God  better  than 
her  little  Sister  Rachael.  She  answered  yes,  better  than  anything! 
Then  her  eldest  Sister,  referring  to  her  saying  she  could  find  God 
now,  asked  her  where  she  could  find  God.  She  answered  in 
Heaven:  Why,  said  she,  have  you  been  in  Heaven?  No,  said 
the  Child.  By  this  it  seems  not  to  have  been  any  Imagination 
of  any  thing  seen  with  bodily  Eyes,  that  she  called  God,  when 
she  said  I  can  find  God  now.  Her  Mother  asked  her  whether 
she  was  afraid  of  going  to  Hell,  and  that  had  made  her  cry.  She 
answered,  yes,  I  was;  but  now  I  shan't.  Her  Mother  asked  her 
whether  she  thought  that  God  had  given  her  Salvation:  She 
answered  yes.  Her  Mother  asked  her,  when.  She  answered, 
to-day.  She  appear'd  all  that  Afternoon  exceeding  chearful  and 
joyful.  One  of  the  Neighbours  asked  her,  how  she  felt  herself? 
She  answer'd,  I  feel  better  than  I  did.  The  Neighbour  asked  her, 
what  made  her  feel  better:  She  answered,  God  makes  me.  That 
Evening  as  she  lay  a-bed,  she  called  one  of  her  little  Cousins  to 
her  that  was  present  in  the  Room,  as  having  something  to  say  to 
him ;  and  when  he  came,  she  told  him,  that  Heaven  was  better 
than  Earth.  The  next  day  being  Friday,  her  Mother  asking  her 


JONATHAN  EDWARDS  289 

her  Catechism,  asked  her  what  God  made  her  for:  She  answered 
to  serve  him,  and  added,  every  body  should,  serve  God,  and  get  an 
Interest  in  Christ. 

The  same  Day  the  elder  Children,  when  they  came  home 
from  School,  seemed  much  affected  with  the  extraordinary  Change 
that  seemed  to  be  made  in  Phebe:  And  her  Sister  Abigail  stand 
ing  by,  her  Mother  took  occasion  to  counsel  her,  now  to  improve 
her  Time,  to  prepare  for  another  World:  On  which  Phebe  burst 
out  in  Tears,  and  cried  out  Poor  Nabby!  Her  Mother  told  her 
she  would  not  have  her  cry,  she  hoped  that  God  would  give 
Nabby  Salvation;  but  that  did  not  quiet  her,  but  she  continued 
earnestly  crying  for  some  time;  and  when  she  had  in  a  measure 
ceased,  her  Sister  Eunice  being  by  her,  she  burst  out  again,  and 
cried  Poor  Eunice!  and  cried  exceedingly;  and  when  she  had 
almost  done,  she  went  into  another  Room,  and  there  looked  upon 
her  Sister  Naomi:  and  burst  out  again,  crying  Poor  Amy!  Her 
Mother  was  greatly  affected  at  such  a  Behaviour  in  the  Child, 
and  knew  not  what  to  say  to  her.  One  of  the  Neighbours  coming 
in  a  little  after,  asked  her  what  she  had  cried  for.  She  seemed  at 
first  backward  to  tell  the  Reason :  her  Mother  told  her  she  might 
tell  that  Person,  for  he  had  given  her  an  Apple:  Upon  which 
she  said,  she  cried  because  she  was  afraid  they  would  go  to  Hell. 

At  Night  a  certain  Minister,  that  was  occasionally  in  the  Town, 
was  at  the  House,  and  talked  considerably  with  her,  of  the  Things 
of  Religion;  and  after  he  was  gone  she  sat  leaning  on  the  Table, 
with  Tears  running  out  of  her  Eyes:  And  being  asked  what 
made  her  cry,  she  said  it  was  thinking  about  God.  The  next  Day 
being  Saturday,  she  seemed  great  part  of  the  Day  to  be  in  a  very 
affectionate  Frame,  had  four  turns  of  Crying,  and  seemed  to  en 
deavour  to  curb  herself,  and  hide  her  Tears,  and  was  very  back 
ward  to  talk  of  the  occasion  of  it.  On  the  Sabbath  Day  she  was 
asked  whether  she  believed  in  God;  she  answered  yes:  And 
being  told  that  Christ  was  the  Son  of  God,  she  made  ready  An 
swer,  and  said,  I  know  it. 

From  this  Time  there  has  appeared  a  very  remarkable  abiding 
Change  in  the  Child :  She  has  been  very  strict  upon  the  Sabbath ; 
and  seems  to  long  for  the  Sabbath  Day  before  it  comes,  and  will 
often  in  the  Week-time  be  enquiring  how  long  it  is  to  the  Sabbath 


2QO  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

Day,  and  must  have  the  Days  particularly  counted  over  that  are 
between,  before  she  will  be  contented.  And  she  seems  to  love 
God's  House,  is  very  eager  to  go  thither :  Her  Mother  once  asked 
her  why  she  had  such  a  Mind  to  go?  whether  it  was  not  to  see 
fine  Folks?  She  said  no,  it  was  to  hear  Mr.  Edwards  preach. 
When  she  is  in  the  place  of  Worship,  she  is  very  far  from  spend 
ing  her  Time  there  as  Children  at  her  Age  usually  do,  but  appears 
with  an  Attention  that  is  very  extraordinary  for  such  a  Child. 
She  also  appears  very  desirous  at  all  Opportunities  to  go  to  private 
religious  Meetings;  and  is  very  still  and  attentive  at  Home,  in 
Prayer-time,  and  has  appeared  affected  in  time  of  Family-Prayer. 
She  seems  to  delight  much  in  hearing  religious  Conversation: 
When  I  once  was  there  with  some  others  that  were  Strangers, 
and  talked  to  her  something  of  Religion,  she  seemed  more  than 
ordinarily  attentive;  and  when  we  were  gone,  she  looked  out 
very  wistly  after  us,  and  said,  /  wish  they  would  come  again  I 
Her  Mother  asked  her  why:  Says  she,  7  love  to  hear  them  talk! 
She  seems  to  have  very  much  of  the  Fear  of  God  before  her 
Eyes,  and  an  extraordinary  Dread  of  Sin  against  him;  of  which 
her  Mother  mentioned  the  following  remarkable  Instance.  Some 
time  in  August,  the  last  Year,  she  went  with  some  bigger  Children, 
to  get  some  Plumbs,  in  a  Neighbour's  Lot,  knowing  nothing  of 
any  harm  in  what  she  did;  but  when  she  brought  some  of  the 
Plumbs  into  the  House,  her  Mother  mildly  reproved  her,  and 
told  her  that  she  must  not  get  Plumbs  without  leave,  because  it 
was  Sin:  God  had  commanded  her  not  to  steal.  The  Child  seemed 
greatly  surprized,  and  burst  out  into  Tears,  and  cried  out,  7 
won't  have  these  Plumbs!  and  turning  to  her  Sister  Eunice,  very 
earnestly  said  to  her,  why  did  you  ask  me  to  go  to  that  Plumb- 
Tree?  I  should  not  have  gone  if  you  had  not  asked  me.  The 
other  Children  did  not  seem  to  be  much  affected  or  concerned; 
but  there  was  no  pacifying  Phebe.  Her  Mother  told  her  she 
might  go  and  ask  leave,  and  then  it  would  not  be  sin  for  her  to 
eat  them;  and  sent  one  pf  the  Children  to  that  end;  and  when 
she  returned,  her  Mother  told  her  that  the  Owner  had  given 
leave,  now  she  might  eat  them,  and  it  would  not  be  stealing. 
This  stilPd  her  a  little  while;  but  presently  she  broke  out  again 
into  an  exceeding  Fit  of  Crying:  Her  Mother  asked  her  what 


JONATHAN  EDWARDS  291 

made  her  cry  again  t  Why  she  cried  now,  since  they  had  asked 
leave?  What  it  was  that  troubled  her  now?  And  asked  her 
several  times  very  earnestly,  before  she  made  any  Answer;  but 
at  last  said,  it  was  because,  BECAUSE  IT  WAS  SIN.  She  con 
tinued  a  considerable  time  crying;  and  said  she  would  not  go 
again  if  Eunice  asked  her  an  hundred  Times;  and  she  retained 
her  Aversion  to  that  Fruit  for  a  considerable  time,  under  the 
remembrance  of  her  former  Sin. 


CONCERNING  THE  NOTION  OF  LIBERTY,  AND  OF 
MORAL   AGENCY 

[From  the  "Treatise  on  the  Freedom  of  the  Will"] 

The  plain  and  obvious  Meaning  of  the  Words  Freedom  and 
Liberty,  in  common  Speech,  is  Power,  Opportunity,  or  Advantage, 
that  any  one  has,  to  do  as  he  pleases.  Or  in  other  Words,  his 
being  free  from  Hindrance  or  Impediment  in  the  Way  of  doing, 
or  conducting  in  any  Respect,  as  he  wills.1  And  the  contrary  to 
Liberty,  whatever  Name  we  call  that  by,  is  a  Person's  being 
hinder'd  or  unable  to  conduct  as  he  will,  or  being  necessitated  to 
do  otherwise. 

If  this  which  I  have  mentioned  be  the  Meaning  of  the  Word 
Liberty,  in  the  ordinary  Use  of  Language;  as  I  trust  that  none 
that  has  ever  learn'd  to  talk,  and  is  unprejudiced,  will  deny; 
then  it  will  follow,  that  in  Propriety  of  Speech,  neither  Liberty, 
nor  it's  contrary,  can  properly  be  ascribed  to  any  Being  or  Thing, 
but  that  which  has  such  a  Faculty,  Power  or  Property,  as  is 
called  Will.  For  that  which  is  possessed  of  no  such  Thing  as 
Will,  can't  have  any  Power  or  Opportunity  of  doing  according  to 
it's  Will,  nor  be  necessitated  to  act  contrary  to  its  Will,  nor  be 
restrained  from  acting  agreeably  to  it.  And  therefore  to  talk  of 
Liberty,  or  the  contrary,  as  belonging  to  the  very  Will  itself,  is 
not  to  speak  good  Sense;  if  we  judge  of  Sense,  and  Nonsense, 
by  the  original  &  proper  Signification  of  Words.  For  the  Will 

1 1  say  not  only  doing,  but  conducting;  because  a  voluntary  forbearing  to  do, 
sitting  still,  keeping  Silence  &c.  are  Instances  of  Persons  Conduct,  about  which 
Liberty  is  exercised;  tho'  they  are  not  so  properly  called  doing. 


292  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

it  self  is  not  an  Agent  that  has  a  Will:  The  Power  of  choosing,  it 
self,  has  not  a  Power  of  chusing.  That  which  has  the  Power  of 
Volition  or  Choice  is  the  Man  or  the  Soul,  and  not  the  Power  of 
Volition  it  self.  And  he  that  has  the  Liberty  of  doing  according 
to  his  Will,  is  the  Agent  or  Doer  who  is  possessed  of  the  Will; 
and  not  the  Will  which  he  is  possessed  of.  We  say  with  Pro 
priety,  that  a  Bird  let  loose  has  Power  &  Liberty  to  fly ;  but  not 
that  the  Bird's  Power  of  flying  has  a  Power  &  Liberty  of  flying. 
To  be  free  is  the  Property  of  an  Agent,  who  is  possessed  of  Powers 
&  Faculties,  as  much  as  to  be  cunning,  valiant,  bountiful,  or 
zealous.  But  these  Qualities  are  the  Properties  of  Men  or  Per 
sons  ;  and  not  the  Properties  of  Properties. 

There  are  two  Things  that  are  contrary  to  this  which  is  called 
Liberty  in  common  Speech.  One  is  Constraint;  the  same  is 
otherwise  called  Force,  Compulsion,  &  Coaction;  which  is  a 
Person's  being  necessitated  to  do  a  Thing  contrary  to  his  Will. 
The  other  is  Restraint;  which  is  his  being  hindred,  and  not  hav 
ing  Power  to  do  according  to  his  Will.  But  that  which  has  no 
Will,  can't  be  the  Subject  of  these  Things.  — I  need  say  the  less 
on  this  Head,  Mr.  Locke  having  set  the  same  Thing  forth,  with 
so  great  Clearness,  in  his  Essay  on  the  human  Understanding. 

But  one  Thing  more  I  would  observe  concerning  what  is  vul 
garly  called  Liberty;  namely,  that  Power  &  Opportunity  for  one 
to  do  and  conduct  as  he  will,  or  according  to  his  Choice,  is  all 
that  is  meant  by  it;  without  taking  into  the  Meaning  of  the 
Word,  any  Thing  of  the  Cause  or  Original  of  that  Choice;  or  at 
all  considering  how  the  Person  came  to  have  such  a  Volition; 
whether  it  was  caused  by  some  external  Motive,  or  internal  habitual 
Bias;  whether  it  was  determined  by  some  internal  antecedent 
Volition,  or  whether  it  happen'd  without  a  Cause;  whether  it 
was  necessarily  connected  with  something  foregoing,  or  not  con 
nected.  Let  the  Person  come  by  his  Volition  or  Choice  how  he 
will,  yet,  if  he  is  able,  and  there  is  Nothing  in  the  Way  to 
hinder  his  pursuing  and  executing  his  Will,  the  Man  is  fully  & 
perfectly  free,  according  to  the  primary  and  common  Notion  of 
Freedom. 

What  has  been  said  may  be  sufficient  to  shew  what  is  meant  by 
Liberty,  according  to  the  common  Notions  of  Mankind,  and  in 


JONATHAN   EDWARDS  293 

the  usual  &  primary  Acceptation  of  the  Word :  But  the  Word,  as 
used  by  Arminians,  Pelagians,  &  others,  who  oppose  the  Cal- 
vinists,  has  an  entirely  different  Signification.  —  These  several 
Things  belong  to  their  Notion  of  Liberty. 

i.  That  it  consists  in  a  Self-determining  Power  in  the  Will,  or 
a  certain  Sovereignty  the  Will  has  over  it  self,  and  it's  own  Acts, 
whereby  it  determines  its  own  Volitions ;  so  as  not  to  be  depen 
dent  in  it's  Determinations,  on  any  Cause  without  it  self,  nor  deter 
mined  by  any  Thing  prior  to  it's  own  Acts.  2.  Indifference  be 
longs  to  Liberty  in  their  Notion  of  it,  or  that  the  Mind,  previous 
to  the  Act  of  Volition  be,  in  iquilibrio.  3.  Contingence  is  another 
Thing  that  belongs  and  is  essential  to  it;  not  in  the  common 
Acceptation  of  the  Word,  as  that  has  been  already  explain'd,  but 
as  opposed  to  all  Necessity,  or  any  fixed  &  certain  Connection 
with  some  previous  Ground  or  Reason  of  its  Existence.  They 
suppose  the  Essence  of  Liberty  so  much  to  consist  in  these  Things, 
that  unless  the  Will  of  Man  be  free  in  this  Sense,  he  has  no  real 
Freedom,  how  much  soever  he  may  be  at  Liberty  to  act  according 
to  his  Will. 

A  moral  Agent  is  a  Being  that  is  capable  of  those  Actions  that 
have  a  moral  Quality,  and  which  can  properly  be  denominated 
good  or  evil  in  a  moral  Sense,  vertuous  or  vicious,  commendable 
or  faulty.  To  moral  Agency  belongs  a  moral  Faculty,  or  Sense  of 
moral  Good  &  Evil,  or  of  such  a  Thing  as  Desert  or  Worthiness 
of  Praise  or  Blame,  Reward  or  Punishment ;  and  a  Capacity  which 
an  Agent  has  of  being  influenced  in  his  Actions  by  moral  Induce 
ments  or  Motives,  exhibited  to  the  View  of  Understanding  & 
Reason,  to  engage  to  a  Conduct  agreable  to  the  moral  Faculty. 

The  Sun  is  very  excellent  &  beneficial  in  it's  Action  and  Influ 
ence  on  the  Earth,  in  warming  it,  and  causing  it  to  bring  forth  it's 
Fruits;  but  it  is  not  a  moral  Agent:  It's  Action,  tho'  good,  is  not 
vertuous  or  meritorious.  Fire  that  breaks  out  in  a  City,  and  con 
sumes  great  Part  of  it,  is  very  mischievous  in  its  Operation ;  but 
is  not  a  moral  Agent :  what  it  does  is  not  faulty  or  sinful,  or  de 
serving  of  any  Punishment.  The  brute  Creatures  are  not  moral 
Agents :  the  Actions  of  some  of  'em  are  very  profitable  &  pleas 
ant  ;  others  are  very  hurtful :  yet,  seeing  they  have  no  moral  Fac 
ulty,  or  Sense  of  Desert,  and  don't  act  from  Choice  guided  by 


294  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

Understanding,  or  with  a  Capacity  of  reasoning  and  reflecting,  but 
only  from  Instinct,  and  are  not  capable  of  being  influenced  by 
moral  Inducements,  their  Actions  are  not  properly  sinful  or  ver- 
tuous;  nor  are  they  properly  the  Subjects  of  any  such  moral 
Treatment  for  what  they  do,  as  moral  Agents  are  for  their  Faults 
or  good  Deeds. 


THOMAS    GODFREY 

[Thomas  Godfrey's  fame  rests  largely  on  the  fact  that  he  was  the  author 
of  the  first  tragedy  written  and  acted  in  America,  but  he  deserves  to  be 
remembered  for  the  intrinsic  merit,  or  at  least  promise,  of  some  of  his  per 
formances.  He  was  born  in  Philadelphia  in  1736,  and  died  in  North  Caro 
lina  before  reaching  the  age  of  twenty-seven.  His  father,  who  bore  the  same 
name,  was  a  glazier  of  mathematical  proclivities  whose  memory  is  preserved 
in  Franklin's  "Autobiography."  Thomas  Godfrey  the  younger  received 
but  a  slight  education,  and  was  apprenticed  to  a  watchmaker,  and  afterward 
engaged  in  business.  Some  of  his  shorter  poems  were  published  in  the 
American  Magazine  during  his  lifetime.  The  majority  are  in  the  heroic 
couplet,  but  the  author  attempted  a  variety  of  metres.  It  is  noteworthy  that, 
writing  when  he  did,  and  of  course  following  Pope  and  Dryden  to  a  con 
siderable  extent,  he  was  influenced  by  the  more  musical  masters  of  English 
verse.  The  "Assembly  of  Birds"  is  a  paraphrase  of  Chaucer's  "Parliament 
of  Foules,"  and  "The  Court  of  Fancy"  shows  indebtedness  to  the  same 
poet's  "Hous  of  Fame."  There  are  evident  echoes  of  Milton,  and  hints  of 
the  influence  of  Spenser.  Godfrey's  tragedy,  "The  Prince  of  Parthia,"  was 
written  shortly  before  his  death,  and  was  performed  in  Philadelphia  in  1767. 
It  is  not  certain  that  the  author  ever  saw  a  play  on  the  stage,  and  his  reading 
in  the  dramatists  could  not  have  been  extensive.  "The  Prince  of  Parthia" 
is  a  bloody  story  of  ambition,  the  jealousy  of  man  and  woman,  and  revenge, 
and  is  almost  ludicrously  crude  in  many  ways;  but  it  is  interesting  as  an 
attempt,  unprecedented  in  America,  at  one  of  the  higher  forms  of  compo 
sition. 

The  selections  are  from  the  only  edition  of  Godfrey's  works,  which  were 
collected  by  his  friend  Nathaniel  Evans  and  published  in  Philadelphia  under 
the  title  "juvenile  Poems  on  Various  Subjects,  with  the  Prince  of  Parthia, 
a  Tragedy,"  in  1765.] 

PASTORAL 

[To  Dr.  J — K — SL — Y,  jun.] 

The  young  Alexis  drove  his  bleating  Flock 
To  the  sea's  side,  where  seated  on  a  rock, 
That  over-look'd  the  wave,  in  pensive  mood, 
He  threw  his  eyes  along  the  azure  flood; 

295 


296  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

His  sadn'd  brow  well  anxious  care  express'd, 
And  oft  the  sigh  would  heave  his  youthful  breast, 
His  flock  neglected  rang'd  around  him  wide, 
And  useless  now  his  pipe  hung  by  his  side. 

Calm  was  the  sea,  the  sky  appear'd  serene, 
No  angry  storms  deform'd  the  pleasing  scene; 
Hush'd  in  their  caves  the  ruder  winds  were  laid, 
And  only  gentle  western  breezes  play'd. 
Gay  beauty  round  seem'd  blooming  ev'ry  where, 
And  the  bright  scene  half  rob'd  him  of  his  care. 
When  a  gay  bark  with  spreading  sails  display'd, 
Appear'd  to  view,  in  garlands  rich  array'd. 
Swift  o'er  the  waves  with  eagle's  speed  she  glides, 
And  sportive  dolphins  wanton'd  by  her  sides, 
Aloft  in  air  the  silken  streamers  flew, 
While  the  shrill  music  chear'd  the  jovial  crew. 

Oh !  thou,  from  whose  blest  skill  our  bodies  find 
Sweet  ease,  behold  the  sickness  of  the  mind: 
See,  with  what  force,  love  sways  the  youthful  heart, 
Love,  which  still  triumphs  o'er  thy  heav'nly  art. 

Alexis  thus  —  the  seaman's  life  how  blest ! 
No  anxious  thoughts  disturb  his  peaceful  breast. 
Free  as  the  wind  from  shore  to  shore  he  roves, 
Tastes  ev'ry  sweet,  and  ev'ry  bliss  improves. 
He  wears  no  haughty  beauty's  servile  chain, 
Nor  heeds  a  Delia's  frown  or  cold  disdain; 
Why  was  I  form'd  with  such  an  abject  mind, 
Slave  to  a  Fair  the  proudest  of  her  kind? 

Then  sudden  all  the  heav'ns  appear'd  o'erspread, 
And  the  loud  thunder  shook  the  Ocean's  bed, 
While  streaming  lightning  dreadful  fir'd  the  sky, 
And  the  rough  billows  tost  their  heads  on  high : 
Now  to  the  heav'ns  the  giddy  bark  is  rear'd, 
And  as  fam'd  Argo's  rival  there  appear'd ; 


THOMAS  GODFREY  297 

And  then  as  sudden  from  th'  amazing  height 
Sunk  midst  the  watry  vales,  and  shun'd  the  sight; 
While  from  her  shatter'd  masts  the  rude  winds  bear 
Sails,  cords  and  streamers,  wildly  thro'  the  air. 

The  Shepherd  thus,  ah !  faithless  cruel  sea, 
Thus  Delia  smil'd,  and  thus  she  did  betray. 
Caught  by  the  pleasing  views,  I  left  the  shore, 
And  gave  my  peace  to  seas  untry'd  before; 
But  soon,  too  soon  the  pleasing  prospects  fled, 
And  swelling  waves  and  tempests  did  succeed. 
Witness,  ye  groves,  and  eke,  ye  pow'rs  divine, 
How  oft  she's  sworn  her  faithless  heart  was  mine. 
Now,  fir'd  by  female  pride,  she  scorns  the  truth, 
And  gives  to  wealthy  Ageon  her  youth. 
He's  rich  in  num'rous  flocks,  scarce  knows  his  store, 
My  love  is  all,  nor  can  I  boast  of  more. 

How  oft  I've  led  her  thro'  the  shady  grove, 
While  both  our  souls  seem'd  join'd  in  mutual  love ! 
Ah !   then  the  Sirens  softness  grac'd  her  tongue, 
While  quiv'ring  on  the  pleasing  sounds  I  hung, 
Such  were  the  sounds  which  'woke  the  slumb'ring  shade, 
Such  were  the  sounds  which  rais'd  her  from  the  dead ! 
Such  were  the  sounds  of  Amphion's  charming  lyre, 
And  such  the  music  of  the  heav'nly  quire ! 

How  oft  when  seated  by  the  chrystal  flood, 
Pleas'd  would  we  captivate  the  finny  brood ! 
There  in  the  floating  mirror  would  I  trace 
Each  striking  beauty  of  her  angel  face, 
Her  cheek  embellish 'd  with  the  rosy  die, 
Her  ruby  lip,  and  heav'nly  sparkling  eye, 
'Til  some  rude  wind  would  o'er  the  surface  pass, 
And  envious  snatch  the  beauteous  mimic  face. 
How  great  the  change !  —  and  then  he  starting  spy'd 
Her  body  floating  on  the  boist'rous  tide. 


298  EARLY   AMERICAN    WRITERS 

And  by  the  charmer's  side  the  wild  waves  bore, 
Still  link'd  in  death,  Ageon  to  the  shore. 

But,  oh  !   how  filPd  with  terror  at  the  sight ! 
His  eyes  were  veil'd  in  endless  shades  of  night. 
Cold  was  her  breast,  quick  fleeting  life  had  fled, 
And  on  her  faded  cheeks  the  rose  lay  dead. 
Fix'd  like  a  figur'd  stone  awhile  he  stood, 
And  gave  the  tear  with  anguish  to  the  flood; 
Then  frantic  clasp 'd  her  midst  the  briny  lave, 
And  dash'd  with  anger  each  intruding  wave: 
He  eager  prest  her  lips,  now  pale  and  wet, 
But  for  his  warmth  a  deadly  coldness  met; 
Tho'  once  with  ruby  lustre  bright  they  shone, 
Their  glow  was  lost,  and  all  their  sweetness  gone. 
Now  welcome  death,  the  lovesick  Shepherd  cry'd, 
And  fainting  on  her  clay-cold  bosom  dy'd. 


SONG 


When  in  Cello's  heavn'ly  Eye 
Soft  inviting  Love  I  spy, 
Tho'  you  say  'tis  all  a  cheat, 
I  must  clasp  the  dear  deceit. 


Why  should  I  more  knowledge  gain, 
When  it  only  gives  me  pain? 
If  deceiv'd  I'm  still  at  rest, 
In  the  sweet  Delusion  blest. 


THOMAS  GODFREY  299 

THE  TRIALS   OF  VIRTUE 

[From  "The  Prince  of  Parthia"1] 

ACT   IV,   SCENE  VII. 
ARSACES,  BARZAPHERNES,  AND  GOTARZES. 

BARZAPHERNES.   At  length  we've  forc'd  our  entrance  — 

0  my  lov'd  Prince !   to  see  thee  thus,  indeed, 
Melts  e'en  me  to  a  woman's  softness;   see 
My  eyes  o'erflow  —  Are  these  the  ornaments 
For  Royal  hands  ?  rude  manacles  !   oh  shameful ! 
Is  this  thy  room  of  state,  this  gloomy  goal? 
Without  attendance,  and  thy  bed  the  pavement? 
But,  ah  !   how  diff 'rent  was  our  parting  last ! 

When  flush 'd  with  vict'ry,  reeking  from  the  slaughter, 
You  saw  Arabia's  Sons  scour  o'er  the  plain 
In  shameful  flight,  before  your  conqu'ring  sword; 
Then  shone  you  like  the  God  of  battle. 

ARSACES.  Welcome !  — 

Welcome  my  loyal  friends!   Barzaphernes  1 
My  good  old  soldier,  to  my  bosom  thus ! 
Gotarzes,  my  lov'd  Brother !   now  I'm  happy.  — 
But,  say,  my  soldier,  why  these  threatning  arms? 
Why  am  I  thus  releas'd  by  force  ?   my  Father, 

1  should  have  said  the  King,  had  he  relented, 
He'd  not  have  us'd  this  method  to  enlarge  me. 
Alas !   I  fear,  too  forward  in  your  love, 
You'll  brand  me  with  the  rebel's  hated  name. 

BARZAPHERXES.  I  am  by  nature  blunt  —  the  soldier's  manner. 
Unus'd  to  the  soft  arts  practis'd  at  courts. 

[l  Arsaces,  Prince  of  Parthia,  returned  from  his  victory  over  the  Arabians  to 
find  himself  hated  by  his  younger  brother  Vardanes,  who  was  jealous  both  of 
his  triumphs  in  war,  and  of  his  success  in  winning  the  love  of  Evanthe.  Before 
the  opening  of  this  scene,  Vardanes  has  persuaded  King  Artabanus  to  imprison 
Arsaces  on  a  false  suspicion,  and  has  then  caused  the  murder  of  the  king,  and 
taken  Evanthe  prisoner.  These  proceedings  Vardanes  thinks  to  keep  secret  until 
he  has  killed  Arsaces  and  usurped  the  kingdom;  but  intelligence  has  been  earned 
to  Barzaphernes,  Arsaces' s  Lieutenant-General,  who  has  hastened  to  the  relief 
of  the  Prince.] 


300  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

Nor  can  I  move  the  passions,  or  disguise 
The  sorr'wing  tale  to  mitigate  the  smart. 
Then  seek  it  not:   I  would  sound  the  alarm, 
Loud  as  the  trumpet's  clangour,  in  your  ears; 
Nor  will  I  hail  you,  as  our  Parthia's  King, 
'Til  you've  full  reveng'd  your  Father's  murther. 

ARSACES.   Murther  ?  —  good  heav'n ! 

BARZAPHERNES.   The  tale  requires  some  time; 
And  opportunity  must  not  be  lost; 
Your  traitor  Brother,  who  usurps  your  rights, 
Must,  ere  his  faction  gathers  to  a  head, 
Have  from  his  brows  his  new-born  honours  torn. 

ARSACES.   What,  dost  thou  say,  murther 'd  by  Vardanes  ? 
Impious  parricide !  —  detested  villain !  — 
Give  me  a  sword,  and  onward  to  the  charge, 
Stop  gushing  tears,  for  I  will  weep  in  blood, 
And  sorrow  with  the  groans  of  dying  men.  — 
Revenge !   revenge !  —  oh  !  —  all  my  soul's  on  fire ! 

GOTARZES.   'Twas  not  Vardanes  struck  the  fatal  blow, 
Though,  great  in  pow'r  usurp 'd,  he  dares  support 
The  actor,  vengeful  Lysias;  to  his  breast 
He  clasps,  with  grateful  joy,  the  bloody  villain; 
Who  soon  meant,  with  ruffian  wiles,  to  cut 
You  from  the  earth,  and  also  me. 

ARSACES.  Just  heav'ns !  — 

But,  gentle  Brother,  how  didst  thou  elude 
The  vigilant,  suspicious,  tyrant's  craft. 

GOTARZES.   Phraates,  by  an  accident,  obtainMj 
The  knowledge  of  the  deed,  and  warn'd  by  him 
I  bent  my  flight  toward  the  camp,  to  seek 
Protection  and  revenge;   but  scarce  I'd  left 
The  city  when  I  o'ertook  the  General. 

BARZAPHERNES.    'Ere  the  sun  'rose  I  gain'd  th'  intelligence; 
The  soldiers  when  they  heard  the  dreadful  tale, 
First  stood  aghast,  and  motionless  with  horror. 
Then  suddenly,  inspir'd  with  noble  rage, 
Tore  up  their  ensigns,  calling  on  their  leaders 
To  march  them  to  the  city  instantly. 


THOMAS  GODFREY  30! 

I,  with  some  trusty  few,  with  speed  came  forward, 

To  raise  our  friends  within,  and  gain  your  freedom. 

Nor  hazard  longer,  by  delays,  your  safety. 

Already  faithful  Phraates  has  gain'd 

A  num'rous  party  of  the  citizens; 

With  these  we  mean  t'attack  the  Royal  Palace, 

Crush  the  bold  tyrant  with  surprize,  while  sunk 

In  false  security;   and  vengeance  wreck, 

'Ere  that  he  thinks  the  impious  crime  be  known. 

ARSACES.   O  !  parent  being,  Ruler  of  yon  heav'n! 
Who  bade  creation  spring  to  order,  hear  me. 
What  ever  sins  are  laid  upon  my  soul, 
Now  let  them  not  prove  heavy  on  this  day, 
To  sink  my  arm,  or  violate  my  cause. 
The  sacred  rights  of  Kings,  my  Country's  wrongs, 
The  punishment  of  fierce  impiety, 
And  a  lov'd  Father's  death,  call  forth  my  sword.  — 

Now  on;   I  feel  all  calm  within  my  breast, 
And  ev'ry  busy  doubt  is  hush'd  to  rest; 
Smile  heav'n  propitious  on  my  virtuous  cause, 
Nor  aid  the  wretch  who  dares  disdain  your  laws. 

END  of  the  FOURTH  ACT. 

ACT  V,    SCENE  I. 
The   PALACE. 

The  Curtain  rises,  slowly,  to  soft  music,  and  discovers  Evanthe 
sleeping  on  a  Sofa;   after  the  music  ceases,  Vardanes  enters. 

VARDANES.   Now  shining  Empire  standing  at  the  goal, 
Beck'ns  me  forward  to  increase  my  speed; 
But,  yet,  Arsaces  lives,  bane  to  my  hopes, 
Lysias  I'll  urge  to  ease  me  of  his  life, 
Then  give  the  villain  up  to  punishment. 
The  shew  of  justice  gains  the  changeling  croud. 
Besides,  I  ne'er  will  harbour  in  my  bosom 
Such  serpents,  ever  ready  with  their  stings  — 


302  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

But  now  one  hour  for  love  and  fair  Evanthe  — 

Hence  with  ambition's  cares  —  see,  where  reclin'd, 

In  slumbers  all  her  sorrows  are  dismiss'd, 

Sleep  seems  to  heighten  ev'ry  beauteous  feature, 

And  adds  peculiar  softness  to  each  grace. 

She  weeps  —  in  dreams  some  lively  sorrow  pains  her  — 

I'll  take  one  kiss  —  oh  !   what  a  balmy  sweetness ! 

Give  me  another  —  and  another  still  — 

For  ever  thus  I'd  dwell  upon  her  lips. 

Be  still  my  heart,  and  calm  unruly  transports.  — 

Wake  her,  with  music,  from  this  mimic  death.     [Music  sounds.] 

SONG 

Tell  me,  Phillis,  tell  me  why, 

You  appear  so  wond'rous  coy, 
When  that  glow,  and  sparkling  eye, 

Speak  you  want  to  taste  the  joy? 
Prithee  give  this  fooling  o'er, 
Nor  torment  your  lover  more. 

While  youth  is  warm  within  our  veins, 

And  nature  tempts  us  to  be  gay, 
Give  to  pleasure  loose  the  reins, 

Love  and  youth  fly  swift  away. 
Youth  in  pleasure  should  be  spent, 
Age  will  come,  we'll  then  repent. 

EVANTHE  (waking)  I  come  ye  lovely  shades  —  Ha !  am  I  here? 
Still  in  the  tyrant's  palace  ?    Ye  bright  pow'rs ! 
Are  all  my  blessings  then  but  vis'onary? 
Methought  I  was  arriv'd  on  that  blest  shore 
Where  happy  souls  for  ever  dwell,  crown'd  with 
Immortal  bliss;   Arsaces  led  me  through 
The  flow'ry  groves,  while  all  around  me  gleam'd 
Thousand  and  thousand  shades,  who  welcom'd  me 
With  pleasing  songs  of  joy  —  Vardanes,  ha !  — 

VARDANES.   Why  beams  the  angry  lightning  of  thine  eye 


THOMAS  GODFREY  303 

Against  thy  sighing  slave?     Is  love  a  crime? 
Oh !   if  to  dote,  with  such  excess  of  passion 
As  rises  e'en  to  mad  extravagance 
Is  criminal,  I  then  am  so,  indeed. 

EVANTHE.   Away !   vile  man !  — 

VARDANES.  If  to  pursue  thee  e'er 

With  all  the  humblest  offices  of  love, 
If  ne'er  to  know  one  single  thought  that  does 
Not  bear  thy  bright  idea,  merits  scorn  — 

EVANTHE.   Hence  from  my  sight  —  nor  let  me,  thus,  pollute 
Mine  eyes,  with  looking  on  a  wretch  like  thee, 
Thou  cause  of  all  my  ills;   I  sicken  at 
Thy  loathsome  presence  — 

VARDANES.  'Tis  not  always  thus, 

Nor  dost  thou  ever  meet  the  sounds  of  love 
With  rage  and  fierce  disdain:   Arsaces,  soon, 
Could  smooth  thy  brow,  and  melt  thy  icy  breast. 

EVANTHE.   Ha!   does  it  gall  thee?    Yes,  he  could,  he  could; 
Oh  !   when  he  speaks,  such  sweetness  dwells  upon 
His  accents,  all  my  soul  dissolves  to  love, 
And  warm  desire ;   such  truth  and  beauty  join'd ! 
His  looks  are  soft  and  kind,  such  gentleness 
Such  virtue  swells  his  bosom !   in  his  eye 
Sits  majesty,  commanding  ev'ry  heart. 
Strait  as  the  pine,  the  pride  of  all  the  grove, 
More  blooming  than  the  spring,  and  sweeter  far, 
Than  asphodels  or  roses  infant  sweets. 
Oh !   I  could  dwell  forever  on  his  praise, 
Yet  think  eternity  was  scarce  enough 
To  tell  the  mighty  theme;   here  in  my  breast 
His  image  dwells,  but  one  dear  thought  of  him, 
When  fancy  paints  his  Person  to  my  eye, 
As  he  was  wront  in  tenderness  dissolv'd, 
Sighing  his  vows,  or  kneeling  at  my  feet, 
Wipes  off  all  mem'ry  of  my  wretchedness. 

VARDANES.   I  know  this  brav'ry  is  affected,  yet 
It  gives  me  joy,  to  think  my  rival  only 
Can  in  imagination  taste  thy  beauties. 


304  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

Let  him,  —  'twill  ease  him  in  his  solitude, 
And  gild  the  horrors  of  his  prison-house, 
Till  death  shall  — 

EVANTHE.  Ha!  what  was  that?  till  death  —  ye  Gods! 

Ah,  now  I  feel  distress's  tort'ring  pang  — 
Thou  canst  not  villain  —  darst  not  think  his  death  — 
O  mis'ry !  — 

VARDANES.   Naught  but  your  kindness  saves  him, 
Yet  bless  me,  with  your  love,  and  he  is  safe; 
But  the  same  frown  which  kills  my  growing  hopes, 
Gives  him  to  death. 


JOHN  WOOLMAN 

[John  Woolman,  the  Quaker,  possessed  a  personal  simplicity  and  a 
purity  of  heart  that  give  great  charm  to  his  impractically  idealistic  writings. 
He  was  born  in  Northampton,  N.  J.,  in  1720,  and  passed  his  boyhood 
on  a  farm.  During  the  greater  part  of  his  adult  life  he  travelled  among  the 
Friends  in  different  parts  of  America,  speaking  at  their  meetings,  conversing 
with  them  personally,  and  working  with  especial  vigor  against  slave-holding, 
which  was  then  practised  by  some  members  of  the  society.  On  these  trips 
he  supported  himself  by  working  at  his  trade,  that  of  a  tailor,  and  some 
times  by  acting  as  a  clerk  or  notary  and  drawing  wills  and  other  papers.  In 
1772  he  went  on  a  visit  to  the  Quakers  in  England,  and  died  of  the  small 
pox  in  the  city  of  York  soon  after  his  arrival.  During  his  lifetime  he  pub 
lished  a  few  tracts,  and  his  "Works"  in  two  parts  were  issued  in  Philadelphia 
after  his  death.  The  most  important  of  his  writings  is  his  "Journal," 
which  has  been  many  times  reprinted.  The  selections  here  given  are  from 
the  edition  by  J.  G.  Whittier,  published  in  1871.] 

THE  WEARING  OF  DYED  GARMENTS 

[From  the  "Journal"] 

The  use  of  hats  and  garments  dyed  with  a  dye  hurtful  to  them, 
and  wearing  more  clothes  in  summer  than  are  useful,  grew  more 
uneasy  to  me,  believing  them  to  be  customs  which  have  not  their 
foundation  in  pure  wisdom.  The  apprehension  of  being  singular 
from  my  beloved  friends  was  a  strait  upon  me,  and  thus  I  con 
tinued  in  the  use  of  some  things  contrary  to  my  judgment. 

On  the  3ist  of  fifth  month,  1761,  I  was  taken  ill  of  a  fever,  and 
after  it  had  continued  near  a  week  I  was  in  great  distress  of  body. 
One  day  there  was  a  cry  raised  in  me  that  I  might  understand  the 
cause  of  my  affliction,  and  improve  under  it,  and  my  conformity 
to  some  customs  which  I  believed  were  not  right  was  brought  to 
my  remembrance.  In  the  continuance  of  this  exercise  I  felt  all 
the  powers  in  me  yield  themselves  up  into  the  hands  of  Him  who 
gave  me  being,  and  was  made  thankful  that  he  had  taken  hold  of 
me  by  his  chastisements.  Feeling  the  necessity  of  further  purify- 

x  3°5 


306  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

ing,  there  was  now  no  desire  in  me  for  health  until  the  design  of 
my  correction  was  answered.  Thus  I  lay  in  abasement  and  broken- 
ness  of  spirit,  and  as  I  felt  a  sinking  down  into  a  calm  resignation, 
so  I  felt,  as  in  an  instant,  an  inward  healing  in  my  nature;  and 
from  that  time  forward  I  grew  better. 

Though  my  mind  was  thus  settled  in  relation  to  hurtful  dyes, 
I  felt  easy  to  wear  my  garments  heretofore  made,  and  continued 
to  do  so  about  nine  months.  Then  I  thought  of  getting  a  hat  the 
natural  color  of  the  fur,  but  the  apprehension  of  being  looked  upon 
as  one  affecting  singularity  felt  uneasy  to  me.  Here  I  had  occa 
sion  to  consider  that  things,  though  small  in  themselves,  being 
clearly  enjoined  by  Divine  authority,  become  great  things  to  us; 
and  I  trusted  that  the  Lord  would  support  me  in  the  trials  that 
might  attend  singularity,  so  long  as  singularity  was  only  for  his 
sake.  On  this  account  I  was  under  close  exercise  of  mind  in  the 
time  of  our  General  Spring  Meeting,  1762,  greatly  desiring  to  be 
rightly  directed;  when,  being  deeply  bowed  in  spirit  before  the 
Lord,  I  was  made  willing  to  submit  to  what  I  apprehended  was 
required  of  me,  and  when  I  returned  home  got  a  hat  of  the  natural 
color  of  the  fur. 

In  attending  meetings  this  singularity  was  a  trial  to  me,  and 
more  especially  at  this  time,  as  white  hats  were  used  by  some  who 
were  fond  of  following  the  changeable  modes  of  dress,  and  as  some 
Friends  who  knew  not  from  what  motives  I  wore  it  grew  shy  of 
me,  I  felt  my  way  for  a  time  shut  up  in  the  exercise  of  the  ministry. 
In  this  condition,  my  mind  being  turned  toward  my  Heavenly 
Father  with  fervent  cries  that  I  might  be  preserved  to  walk  before 
him  in  the  meekness  of  wisdom,  my  heart  was  often  tender  in  meet 
ings,  and  I  felt  an  inward  consolation  which  to  me  was  very  pre 
cious  under  these  difficulties. 

I  had  several  dyed  garments  fit  for  use  which  I  believed  it  best 
to  wear  till  I  had  occasion  for  new  ones.  Some  Friends  were 
apprehensive  that  my  wearing  such  a  hat  savored  of  an  affected 
singularity;  those  who  spoke  with  me  in  a  friendly  way  I  gener 
ally  informed,  in  a  few  words,  that  I  believed  my  wearing  it  was 
not  in  my  own  will.  I  had  at  times  been  sensible  that  a  super 
ficial  friendship  had  been  dangerous  to  me;  and  many  Friends 
being  now  uneasy  with  me,  I  had  an  inclination  to  acquaint  some 


JOHN   WOOLMAN  307 

with  the  manner  of  my  being  led  into  these  things;  yet  upon  a 
deeper  thought  I  was  for  a  time  most  easy  to  omit  it,  believing  the 
present  dispensation  was  profitable,  and  trusting  that  if  I  kept  my 
place  the  Lord  in  his  own  time  would  open  the  hearts  of  Friends 
towards  me.  I  have  since  had  cause  to  admire  his  goodness  and 
loving-kindness  in  leading  about  and  instructing  me,  and  in  open 
ing  and  enlarging  my  heart  in  some  of  our  meetings. 

A  SEA  VOYAGE 

[From  the  "Journal"] 

Having  been  some  time  under  a  religious  concern  to  prepare 
for  crossing  the  seas,  in  order  to  visit  Friends  in  the  northern  parts 
of  England,  and  more  particularly  in  Yorkshire,  after  considera 
tion  I  thought  it  expedient  to  inform  Friends  of  it  at  our  Monthly 
Meeting  at  Burlington,  who,  having  unity  with  me  therein,  gave 
me  a  certificate.  I  afterwards  communicated  the  same  to  our 
Quarterly  Meeting,  and  they  likewise  certified  their  concurrence. 
Some  time  after,  at  the  General  Spring  Meeting  of  ministers  and 
elders,  I  thought  it  my  duty  to  acquaint  them  with  the  religious 
exercise  which  attended  my  mind ;  and  they  likewise  signified  their 
unity  therewith  by  a  certificate,  dated  the  24th  of  third  month,  1772, 
directed  to  Friends  in  Great  Britain. 

In  the  fourth  month  following  I  thought  the  time  was  come  for 
me  to  make  some  inquiry  for  a  suitable  conveyance;  and  as  my 
concern  was  principally  towards  the  northern  parts  of  England, 
it  seemed  most  proper  to  go  in  a  vessel  bound  to  Liverpool  or 
Whitehaven.  While  I  was  at  Philadelphia  deliberating  on  this 
subject  I  was  informed  that  my  beloved  friend  Samuel  Emlen, 
junior,  intended  to  go  to  London,  and  had  taken  a  passage  for 
himself  in  the  cabin  of  the  ship  called  the  Mary  and  Elizabeth, 
of  which  James  Sparks  was  master,  and  John  Head,  of  the  city 
of  Philadelphia,  one  of  the  owners;  and  feeling  a  draught  in  my 
mind  towards  the  steerage  of  the  same  ship,  I  went  first  and 
opened  to  Samuel  the  feeling  I  had  concerning  it. 

My  beloved  friend  wept  when  I  spake  to  him,  and  appeared 
glad  that  I  had  thoughts  of  going  in  the  vessel  with  him,  though 
my  prospect  was  toward  the  steerage;  and  he  offering  to  go  with 


308  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

me,  we  went  on  board,  first  into  the  cabin,  —  a  commodious  room, 
—  and  then  into  the  steerage,  where  we  sat  down  on  a  chest,  the 
sailors  being  busy  about  us.  The  owner  of  the  ship  also  came 
and  sat  down  with  us.  My  mind  was  turned  towards  Christ,  the 
Heavenly  Counsellor,  and  feeling  at  this  time  my  own  will  sub 
jected,  my  heart  was  contrite  before  him.  A  motion  was  made 
by  the  owner  to  go  and  sit  in  the  cabin,  as  a  place  more  retired; 
but  I  felt  easy  to  leave  the  ship,  and,  making  no  agreement  as  to 
a  passage  in  her,  told  the  owner  if  I  took  a  passage  in  the  ship  I 
believed  it  would  be  in  the  steerage;  but  did  not  say  much  as  to 
my  exercise  in  that  case. 

After  I  went  to  my  lodgings,  and  the  case  was  a  little  known  in 
town,  a  Friend  laid  before  me  the  great  inconvenience  attending  a 
passage  in  the  steerage,  which  for  a  time  appeared  very  discourag 
ing  to  me. 

I  soon  after  went  to  bed,  and  my  mind  was  under  a  deep  exercise 
before  the  Lord,  whose  helping  hand  was  manifested  to  me  as  I 
slept  that  night,  and  his  love  strengthened  my  heart.  In  the 
morning  I  went  with  two  Friends  on  board  the  vessel  again,  and 
after  a  short  time  spent  therein,  I  went  with  Samuel  Emlen  to 
the  house  of  the  owner,  to  whom,  in  the  hearing  of  Samuel  only, 
I  opened  my  exercise  in  relation  to  a  scruple  I  felt  with  regard  to 
a  passage  in  the  cabin,  in  substance  as  follows :  — 

"That  on  the  outside  of  that  part  of  the  ship  where  the  cabin 
was  I  observed  sundry  sorts  of  carved  work  and  imagery;  that 
in  the  cabin  I  observed  some  superfluity  of  workmanship  of 
several  sorts ;  and  that  according  to  the  ways  of  men's  reckoning, 
the  sum  of  money  to  be  paid  for  a  passage  in  that  apartment  has 
some  relation  to  the  expense  of  furnishing  it  to  please  the  minds 
of  such  as  give  way  to  a  conformity  to  this  world ;  and  that  in  this, 
as  in  other  cases,  the  moneys  received  from  the  passengers  are 
calculated  to  defray  the  cost  of  these  superfluities,  as  well  as  the 
other  expenses  of  their  passage.  I  therefore  felt  a  scruple  with 
regard  to  paying  my  money  to  be  applied  to  such  purposes.'7 

As  my  mind  was  now  opened,  I  told  the  owner  that  I  had,  at 
several  times,  in  my  travels,  seen  great  oppressions  on  this  con 
tinent,  at  which  my  heart  had  been  much  affected  and  brought 
into  a  feeling  of  the  state  of  the  sufferers ;  and  having  many  times 


JOHN   WOOLMAN  309 

been  engaged  in  the  fear  and  love  of  God  to  labor  with  those  under 
whom  the  oppressed  have  been  borne  down  and  afflicted,  I  have 
often  perceived  that  with  a  view  to  get  riches  and  to  provide  es 
tates  for  children,  that  they  may  live  conformably  to  the  customs 
and  honors  of  this  world,  many  are  entangled  in  the  spirit  of 
oppression,  and  the  exercise  of  my  soul  had  been  such  that  I  could 
not  find  peace  in  joining  in  anything  which  I  saw  was  against  that 
wisdom  which  is  pure. 

After  this  I  agreed  for  a  passage  in  the  steerage;  and  hearing 
that  Joseph  White  had  desired  to  see  me,  I  went  to  his  house,  and 
next  day  home,  where  I  tarried  two  nights.  Early  the  next  morn 
ing  I  parted  with  my  family  under  a  sense  of  the  humbling  hand 
of  God  upon  me,  and,  going  to  Philadelphia,  had  an  opportunity 
with  several  of  my  beloved  friends,  who  appeared  to  be  concerned 
for  me  on  account  of  the  unpleasant  situation  of  that  part  of  the 
vessel  in  which  I  was  likely  to  lodge.  In  these  opportunities  my 
mind,  through  the  mercies  of  the  Lord,  was  kept  low  in  an  inward 
waiting  for  his  help;  and  Friends  having  expressed  their  desire 
that  I  might  have  a  more  convenient  place  than  the  steerage,  did 
not  urge  it,  but  appeared  disposed  to  leave  me  to  the  Lord. 

Having  stayed  two  nights  at  Philadelphia,  I  went  the  next  day 
to  Derby  Monthly  Meeting,  where  through  the  strength  of  Divine 
love  my  heart  was  enlarged  towards  the  youth  there  present,  under 
which  I  was  helped  to  labor  in  some  tenderness  of  spirit.  I  lodged 
at  William  Horn's  and  afterwards  went  to  Chester,  where  I  met 
with  Samuel  Emlen,  and  we  went  on  board  ist  of  fifth  month,  1772. 
As  I  sat  alone  on  the  deck  I  felt  a  satisfactory  evidence  that  my 
proceedings  were  not  in  my  own  will,  but  under  the  power  of  the 
cross  of  Christ. 

Seventh  of  fifth  month.  —  We  have  had  rough  weather  mostly 
since  I  came  on  board,  and  the  passengers,  James  Reynolds,  John 
Till  Adams,  Sarah  Logan  and  her  hired  maid,  and  John  Bispham, 
all  sea-sick  at  times ;  from  which  sickness,  through  the  tender  mer 
cies  of  my  Heavenly  Father,  I  have  been  preserved,  my  afflictions 
now  being  of  another  kind.  There  appeared  an  openness  in  the 
minds  of  the  master  of  the  ship  and  in  the  cabin  passengers  towards 
me.  We  are  often  together  on  the  deck,  and  sometimes  in  the 
cabin.  My  mind,  through  the  merciful  help  of  the  Lord,  hath 


310  EARLY  AMERICAN   WRITERS 

been  preserved  in  a  good  degree  watchful  and  quiet,  for  which  I 
have  great  cause  to  be  thankful. 

As  my  lodging  in  the  steerage,  now  near  a  week,  hath  afforded 
me  sundry  opportunities  of  seeing,  hearing,  and  feeling  with 
respect  to  the  life  and  spirit  of  many  poor  sailors,  an  exercise  of 
soul  hath  attended  me  in  regard  to  placing  out  children  and  youth 
where  they  may  be  likely  to  be  exampled  and  instructed  in  the 
pure  fear  of  the  Lord. 

Being  much  among  the  seamen  I  have,  from  a  motion  of  love, 
taken  sundry  opportunities  with  one  of  them  at  a  time,  and  have 
in  free  conversation  labored  to  turn  their  minds  towards  the  fear 
of  the  Lord.  This  day  we  had  a  meeting  in  the  cabin,  where  my 
heart  was  contrite  under  a  feeling  of  Divine  love. 

I  believe  a  communication  with  different  parts  of  the  world  by 
sea  is  at  times  consistent  with  the  will  of  our  Heavenly  Father, 
and  to  educate  some  youth  in  the  practice  of  sailing,  I  believe 
may  be  right ;  but  how  lamentable  is  the  present  corruption  of  the 
world!  How  impure  are  the  channels  through  which  trade  is 
conducted!  How  great  is  the  danger  to  which  poor  lads  are 
exposed  when  placed  on  shipboard  to  learn  the  art  of  sailing! 
Five  lads  training  up  for  the  seas  were  on  board  this  ship.  Two 
of  them  were  brought  up  in  our  Society,  and  the  other,  by  name 
James  Naylor,  is  a  member,  to  whose  father  James  Naylor,  men 
tioned  in  SewePs  history,  appears  to  have  been  uncle.  I  often 
feel  a  tenderness  of  heart  towards  these  poor  lads,  and  at  times 
look  at  them  as  though  they  were  my  children  according  to  the 
flesh. 

O  that  all  may  take  heed  and  beware  of  covetousness !  O 
that  all  may  learn  of  Christ,  who  was  meek  and  lowly  of  heart. 
Then  in  faithfully  following  him  he  will  teach  us  to  be  content 
with  food  and  raiment  without  respect  to  the  customs  or  honors 
of  this  world.  Men  thus  redeemed  will  feel  a  tender  concern  for 
their  fellow-creatures,  and  a  desire  that  those  in  the  lowest  sta 
tions  may  be  assisted  and  encouraged,  and  where  owners  of  ships 
attain  to  the  perfect  law  of  liberty  and  are  doers  of  the  Word,  these 
will  be  blessed  in  their  deeds. 

A  ship  at  sea  commonly  sails  all  night,  and  the  seamen  take 
their  watches  four  hours  at  a  time.  Rising  to  work  in  the  night, 


JOHN   WOOLMAN  311 

it  is  not  commonly  pleasant  in  any  case,  but  in  dark  rainy  nights 
it  is  very  disagreeable,  even  though  each  man  were  furnished  with 
all  conveniences.  If,  after  having  been  on  deck  several  hours  in 
the  night,  they  come  down  into  the  steerage  soaking  wet,  and  are 
so  closely  stowed  that  proper  convenience  for  change  of  garments 
is  not  easily  come  at,  but  for  want  of  proper  room  their  wet  gar 
ments  are  thrown  in  heaps,  and  sometimes,  through  much  crowd 
ing,  are  trodden  under  foot  in  going  to  their  lodgings  and  getting 
out  of  them,  and  it  is  difficult  at  times  for  each  to  find  his  own. 
Here  are  trials  for  the  poor  sailors. 

Now,  as  I  have  been  with  them  in  my  lodge,  my  heart  hath 
often  yearned  for  them,  and  tender  desires  have  been  raised  in  me 
that  all  owners  and  masters  of  vessels  may  dwell  in  the  love  of 
God  and  therein  act  uprightly,  and  by  seeking  less  for  gain  and 
looking  carefully  to  their  ways  they  may  earnestly  labor  to  remove 
all  cause  of  provocation  from  the  poor  seamen,  so  that  they  may 
neither  fret  nor  use  excess  of  strong  drink;  for,  indeed,  the  poor 
creatures,  in  the  wet  and  cold,  seem  to  apply  at  times  to  strong 
drink  to  supply  the  want  of  other  convenience.  Great  reforma 
tion  is  wanting  in  the  world,  and  the  necessity  of  it  among  those 
who  do  business  on  great  waters  hath  at  this  time  been  abun 
dantly  opened  before  me. 

Eighth  of  fifth  month.  —  This  morning  the  clouds  gathered,  the 
wind  blew  strong  from  the  southeast,  and  before  noon  so  increased 
that  sailing  appeared  dangerous.  The  seamen  then  bound  up 
some  of  their  sails  and  took  down  others,  and  the  storm  increasing 
they  put  the  dead-lights,  so  called,  into  the  cabin  windows  and 
lighted  a  lamp  as  at  night.  The  wind  now  blew  vehemently,  and 
the  sea  wrought  to  that  degree  that  an  awful  seriousness  pre 
vailed  in  the  cabin,  in  which  I  spent,  I  believe,  about  seventeen 
hours,  for  the  cabin  passengers  had  given  me  frequent  invitations, 
and  I  thought  the  poor  wet  toiling  seamen  had  need  of  all  the 
room  in  the  crowded  steerage.  They  now  ceased  from  sailing 
and  put  the  vessel  in  the  posture  called  lying  to. 

My  mind  during  this  tempest,  through  the  gracious  assistance 
of  the  Lord,  was  preserved  in  a  good  degree  of  resignation ;  and  at 
times  I  expressed  a  few  words  in  his  love  to  my  shipmates  in  regard 
to  the  all-sufficiency  of  Him  who  formed  the  great  deep,  and  whose 


312  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

care  is  so  extensive  that  a  sparrow  falls  not  without  his  notice; 
and  thus  in  a  tender  frame  of  mind  I  spoke  to  them  of  the  neces 
sity  of  our  yielding  in  true  obedience  to  the  instructions  of  our 
Heavenly  Father,  who  sometimes  through  adversities  intendeth 
our  refinement. 

About  eleven  at  night  I  went  out  on  the  deck.  The  sea  wrought 
exceedingly,  and  the  high,  foaming  waves  round  about  had  in 
some  sort  the  appearance  of  fire,  but  did  not  give  much  if  any 
light.  The  sailor  at  the  helm  said  he  lately  saw  a  corposant  at 
the  head  of  the  mast.  I  observed  that  the  master  of  the  ship 
ordered  the  carpenter  to  keep  on  the  deck;  and,  though  he  said 
little,  I  apprehended  his  care  was  that  the  carpenter  with  his  axe 
might  be  in  readiness  in  case  of  any  extremity.  Soon  after  this 
the  vehemency  of  the  wind  abated,  and  before  morning  they  again 
put  the  ship  under  sail. 

Tenth  of  fifth  month.  —  It  being  the  first  day  of  the  week  and 
fine  weather,  we  had  a  meeting  in  the  cabin,  at  which  most  of  the 
seamen  were  present;  this  meeting  was  to  me  a  strengthening 
time.  1 3th.  —  As  I  continue  to  lodge  in  the  steerage  I  feel  an 
openness  this  morning  to  express  something  further  of  the  state 
of  my  mind  in  respect  to  poor  lads  bound  apprentice  to  learn  the 
art  of  sailing.  As  I  believe  sailing  is  of  use  in  the  world,  a  labor 
of  soul  attends  me  that  the  pure  counsel  of  truth  may  be  humbly 
waited  for  in  this  case  by  all  concerned  in  the  business  of  the  seas. 
A  pious  father  whose  mind  is  exercised  for  the  everlasting  welfare 
of  his  child  may  not  with  a  peaceable  mind  place  him  out  to  an 
employment  among  a  people  whose  common  course  of  life  is 
manifestly  corrupt  and  profane.  Great  is  the  present  defect 
among  seafaring  men  in  regard  to  virtue  and  piety;  and,  by 
reason  of  an  abundant  traffic  and  many  ships  being  used  for  war, 
so  many  people  are  employed  on  the  sea  that  the  subject  of  placing 
lads  to  this  employment  appears  very  weighty. 

When  I  remember  the  saying  of  the  Most  High  through  his 
prophet,  "This  people  have  I  formed  for  myself;  they  shall  show 
forth  my  praise,"  and  think  of  placing  children  among  such  to 
learn  the  practice  of  sailing,  the  consistency  of  it  with  a  pious 
education  seems  to  me  like  that  mentioned  by  the  prophet,  "  There 
is  no  answer  from  God." 


JOHN   WOOLMAN  313 

Profane  examples  are  very  corrupting  and  very  forcible.  And 
as  my  mind  day  after  day  and  night  after  night  hath  been  affected 
with  a  sympathizing  tenderness  towards  poor  children  who  are 
put  to  the  employment  of  sailors,  I  have  sometimes  had  weighty 
conversation  with  the  sailors  in  the  steerage,  who  were  mostly 
respectful  to  me  and  became  more  so  the  longer  I  was  with  them. 
They  mostly  appeared  to  take  kindly  what  I  said  to  them;  but 
their  minds  were  so  deeply  impressed  with  the  almost  universal 
depravity  among  sailors  that  the  poor  creatures  in  their  answers 
to  me  have  revived  in  my  remembrance  that  of  the  degenerate 
Jews  a  little  before  the  captivity,  as  repeated  by  Jeremiah  the 
prophet,  "There  is  no  hope." 


BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN 

[The  story  of  Benjamin  Franklin's  long  and  eventful  life  cannot  here  be 
given  in  detail.  He  was  born  in  Boston  in  1706,  and  died  in  Philadelphia 
in  1790.  As  a  boy  he  was  precocious,  and  he  remained  vigorous  until  his 
death;  so  that  his  active  career  covered  a  longer  period  than  the  lifetime 
of  most  men.  He  saw  the  profoundest  changes  in  politics,  social  life,  and 
scientific  thought,  and  he  himself  had  a  part  in  much  that  was  accomplished 
in  these  different  lines  of  activity.  He  was  long  an  influential  editor  and 
publisher  at  Philadelphia;  he  served  Pennsylvania  in  various  official  capaci 
ties  at  home,  and  as  agent  in  England;  he  was  postmaster-general  for  the 
colonies,  member  of  the  committee  which  drafted  the  Declaration  of  Inde 
pendence,  Minister  to  France,  member  of  the  Peace  Commission,  and  dele 
gate  to  the  Constitutional  Convention;  he  won  international  fame  for  his 
researches  in  science ;  he  promoted  many  plans  for  civic  improvements,  and 
for  the  founding  of  educational  and  benevolent  institutions;  and  in  his 
"Autobiography"  he  wrote  the  first  American  book  that  is  still  of  wide  gen 
eral  interest. 

Franklin's  strength  and  versatility  were  personal  qualities  which  would 
have  been  the  same  anywhere;  but  it  may  aid  in  understanding  his  charac 
ter  to  remember  that  he  was  a  New  Englander  who  found  an  opportunity  for 
development  in  the  freer  atmosphere  of  Pennsylvania.  The  intenser  reli 
gious  faith  and  the  finer  idealism  of  Puritanism  he  seems  never  to  have  had. 
But  he  embodied  in  an  unusual  degree  the  shrewdness  and  practicality  of  the 
Puritans.  In  all  that  concerned  practical  matters  and  getting  on  in  the 
world  he  was  a  typical  Yankee.  An  unfortunate  side  of  his  character  is 
seen  in  many  intolerably  coarse  passages  of  his  writings,  and  in  his  "errata," 
as,  in  printer's  metaphor,  he  called  his  breaches  of  the  moral  law.  These 
last  are  to  a  slight  extent  redeemed  by  the  frankness  with  which  he  confesses 
them,  and  regrets  them.  Neither  his  life  nor  his  writings  were  such  as  to 
offer  the  highest  inspiration,  and  yet  few  writers  have  had  a  stronger  influ 
ence  for  right  living.  The  secret  of  this  anomaly  is  that  he  believed  the 
most  practical  way  to  make  people  good  was  to  teach  them  to  be  healthy, 
wealthy,  and  wise. 

The  collected  writings  of  Franklin  fill  ten  large  volumes,  and  treat  a 
great  variety  of  subjects.  Most  of  them  are  interesting.  It  is  not  alone  the 
scientist  or  the  historian  who  will  enjoy  reading  his  accounts  of  electrical 
experiments,  or  his  lively  political  satires.  Still,  his  fame  as  an  author  rests 
mainly  on  the  "Poor  Richard  Sayings,"  the  "Autobiography,"  and  to  a 
lesser  degree  on  a  few  of  the  shorter  essays  or  "Bagatelles."  The  "Poor 
Richard  Sayings"  were  proverbs  and  brief  commentaries  on  life,  originally 

3H 


BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN  315 

published  in  "Poor  Richard's  Almanack,"  which  Franklin  edited  for  many 
years.  Not  all  these  were  strictly  Franklin's  own,  but  most  of  those  which 
he  borrowed  he  transformed  so  as  to  make  them  pass  current.  No  other 
one  author  has  contributed  to  the  language  so  many  familiar  aphorisms  on 
practical  matters.  In  1757  Franklin  incorporated  many  of  these  sayings 
in  "The  Way  to  Wealth,"  a  portion  of  which  is  given  below.  The  "Auto 
biography"  was  written  in  four  sections,  at  intervals  from  1771  to  just 
before  the  author's  death.  The  first  part  was  intended  only  for  the  mem 
bers  of  the  family,  but  in  writing  the  latter  parts  Franklin  seems  to  have 
recognized  that  they  would  be  published.  The  charm  of  the  "Autobiog 
raphy"  is  due  to  the  naive  frankness  of  the  author,  and  to  the  absolute  clear 
ness  and  simplicity  of  his  style.  It  is  one  of  the  few  works  that  interest 
persons  of  all  ages,  and  all  varieties  of  taste.  The  "Bagatelles"  were  slight 
essays  written  while  Franklin  was  in  France,  and  in  some  cases  privately 
printed  in  his  own  house  for  a  small  circle  of  friends.  A  few  of  them,  such 
as  "The  Ephemera,"  "The  Whistle,"  and  the  "Dialogue  between  Franklin 
and  the  Gout,"  were  once  generally  known;  but  they  are  less  spontaneous 
than  most  of  the  author's  work,  and  to  modern  readers  probably  less  inter 
esting. 

The  selections  are  all  from  the  latest  and  most  accurate  collection  of 
Franklin's  writings,  edited  by  Albert  H.  Smyth.] 


POOR  RICHARD'S   ADVICE 

[From  "The  Way  to  Wealth,"  the  Preface  to  "Poor  Richard  Improved," 

for  1758] 

COURTEOUS  READER 

I  have  heard  that  nothing  gives  an  Author  so  great  Pleasure, 
as  to  find  his  Works  respectfully  quoted  by  other  learned  Authors. 
This  Pleasure  I  have  seldom  enjoyed;  for  tho'  I  have  been,  if 
I  may  say  it  without  Vanity,  an  eminent  Author  of  Almanacks 
annually  now  a  full  Quarter  of  a  Century,  my  Brother  Authors 
in  the  same  Way,  for  what  Reason  I  know  not,  have  ever  been  very 
sparing  in  their  Applauses,  and  no  other  Author  has  taken  the 
least  Notice  of  me,  so  that  did  not  my  Writings  produce  me  some 
solid  Pudding,  the  great  Deficiency  of  Praise  would  have  quite 
discouraged  me. 

I  concluded  at  length,  that  the  People  were  the  best  Judges  of 
my  Merit ;  for  they  buy  my  Works ;  and  besides,  in  my  Rambles, 
where  I  am  not  personally  known,  I  have  frequently  heard  one 
or  other  of  my  Adages  repeated,  with,  as  Poor  RicJiard  says,  at 
the  End  on't;  this  gave  me  some  Satisfaction,  as  it  showed  not 


316  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

only  that  my  Instructions  were  regarded,  but  discovered  likewise 
some  Respect  for  my  Authority;  and  I  own,  that  to  encourage 
the  Practice  of  remembering  and  repeating  those  wise  Sentences, 
I  have  sometimes  quoted  myself  with  great  Gravity. 

Judge,  then  how  much  I  must  have  been  gratified  by  an  Incident 
I  am  going  to  relate  to  you.  I  stopt  my  Horse  lately  where  a 
great  Number  of  People  were  collected  at  a  Vendue  of  Merchant 
Goods.  The  Hour  of  Sale  not  being  come,  they  were  conversing 
on  the  Badness  of  the  Times  and  one  of  the  Company  call'd  to 
a  plain  clean  old  Man,  with  white  Locks,  "  Pray,  Father  Abraham, 
what  think  you  of  the  Times?  Won't  these  heavy  taxes  quite 
ruin  the  Country?  How  shall  we  be  ever  able  to  pay  them? 
What  would  you  advise  us  to  ?"  Father  Abraham  stood  up,  and 
reply'd,  "If  you'd  have  my  Advice,  I'll  give  it  you  in  short,  for 
A  Word  to  the  Wise  is  enough,  and  many  Words  won't  fill  a  Bushel, 
as  Poor  Richard  says."  They  join'd  in  desiring  him  to  speak  his 
Mind,  and  gathering  round  him,  he  preceded  as  follows; 

"Friends,"  says  he,  and  Neighbours,  "the  Taxes  are  indeed 
very  heavy,  and  if  those  laid  on  by  the  Government  were  the  only 
Ones  we  had  to  pay,  we  might  more  easily  discharge  them;  but 
we  have  many  others,  and  much  more  grevious  to  some  of  us. 
We  are  taxed  twice  as  much  by  our  Idleness,  three  times  as  much 
by  our  Pride,  and  four  times  as  much  by  our  Folly;  and  from  these 
Taxes  the  Commissioners  cannot  ease  or  deliver  us  by  allowing 
an  Abatement.  However  let  us  hearken  to  good  Advice,  and 
something  may  be  done  for  us;  God  helps  them  that  help  them 
selves,  as  Poor  Richard  says,  in  his  Almanack  of  1733. 

It  would  be  thought  a  hard  Government  that  should  tax  its 
People  one-tenth  Part  of  their  Time,  to  be  employed  in  its  Service. 
But  Idleness  taxes  many  of  us  much  more,  if  we  reckon  all  that 
is  spent  in  absolute  Sloth,  or  doing  of  nothing,  with  that  which 
is  spent  in  idle  Employments  or  Amusements,  that  amount  to 
nothing.  Sloth,  by  bringing  on  Diseases,  absolutely  shortens 
Life.  Sloth,  like  rust,  consumes  faster  than  Labour  wears;  while 
the  used  Key  is  always  bright,  as  Poor  Richard  says.  But  dost 
thou  love  Life,  then  do  not  squander  Time,  for  that's  the  stuff  Life 
is  made  of,  as  Poor  Richard  says.  How  much  more  than  is  necessary 
do  we  spend  in  sleep,  forgetting  that  The  sleeping  Fox  catches  no 


BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN  317 

Poultry,  and  that  There  will  be  sleeping  enough  in  the  Grave,  as 
Poor  Richard  says. 

//  Time  be  of  all  Things  the  most  precious,  wasting  Time  must 
be,  as  Poor  Richard  says,  the  greatest  Prodigality;  since,  as  he 
elsewhere  tells  us,  Lost  Time  is  never  found  again;  and  what  we 
call  Time  enough,  always  proves  little  enough:  Let  us  then  up  and 
be  doing,  and  doing  to  the  Purpose;  so  by  Diligence  shall  we  do 
more  with  less  Perplexity.  Sloth  makes  all  Things  difficult,  but 
Industry  all  easy,  as  Poor  Richard  says;  and  He  that  riseth  late 
must  trot  all  Day,  and  shall  scarce  overtake  his  Business  at  Night; 
while  Laziness  travels  so  slowly,  that  Poverty  soon  overtakes  him, 
as  we  read  in  Poor  Richard,  who  adds,  Drive  thy  Business,  let 
not  that  drive  thee;  and  Early  to  Bed,  and  early  to  rise,  makes  a 
Man  healthy,  wealthy,  and  wise. 

So  what  signifies  wishing  and  hoping  for  better  Times.  We 
may  make  these  Times  better,  if  we  bestir  oursleves.  Industry 
need  not  wish,  as  Poor  Richard  says,  and  he  that  lives  upon  Hope 
will  die  fasting.  There  are  no  Gains  without  Pains;  then  Help 
Hands,  for  I  have  no  Lands,  or  if  I  have,  they  are  smartly  taxed. 
And,  as  Poor  Richard  likewise  observes,  He  that  hath  a  Trade 
Jiath  an  Estate;  and  he  that  hath  a  Calling,  hath  an  Office  of 
Profit  and  Honour;  But  then  the  Trade  must  be  worked  at,  and 
the  Calling  well  followed,  or  neither  the  Estate  nor  the  Office 
will  enable  us  to  pay  our  Taxes.  If  we  are  industrious,  we  shall 
never  starve;  for,  as  Poor  Richard  says,  At  the  working  Man's 
House  Hunger  looks  in,  but  dares  not  enter.  Nor  will  the  Bailiff 
or  the  Constable  enter,  for  Industry  pays  Debts,  while  Despair 
encreaseth  them,  says  Poor  Richard.  What  though  you  have  found 
no  Treasure,  nor  has  any  rich  Relation  left  you  a  Legacy,  Dili 
gence  is  the  Mother  of  Good-luck  as  Poor  Richard  says,  and  God 
gives  all  Things  to  Industry.  Then  plough  deep,  while  Sluggards 
sleep,  and  you  shall  have  Corn  to  sell  and  to  keep,  says  Poor  Dick. 
Work  while  it  is  called  To-day,  for  you  know  not  how  much  you 
may  be  hindered  To-morrow,  wrhich  makes  Poor  Richard  say, 
One  to-day  is  worth  two  To-morrows,  and  farther,  Have  you  some 
what  to  do  To-morrow,  do  it  To-Day.  If  you  were  a  Servant, 
wrould  you  not  be  ashamed  that  a  good  Master  should  catch  you 
idle?  'Are  you  then  your  own  Master,  be  ashamed  to  catch  your- 


318  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

self  idle,  as  Poor  Dick  says.  When  there  is  so  much  to  be  done 
for  yourself,  your  Family,  your  Country,  and  your  gracious  King, 
be  up  by  Peep  of  Day;  Let  not  the  Sim  look  down  and  say,  In 
glorious  here  he  lies.  Handle  your  Tools  without  Mittens;  re 
member  that  The  Cat  in  Gloves  catches  no  Mice,  as  Poor  Richard 
says.  'Tis  true  there  is  much  to  be  done,  and  perhaps  you 
are  weak-handed,  but  stick  to  it  steadily ;  and  you  will  see  great 
Effects,  for  Constant  Dropping  wears  away  Stones,  and  by  Dili 
gence  and  Patience  the  Mouse  ate  in  two  the  Cable;  and  Little 
Strokes  fell  great  Oaks,  as  Poor  Richard  says  in  his  Almanack, 
the  Year  I  cannot  just  now  remember. 

Methinks  I  hear  some  of  you  say,  Must  a  Man  afford  himself 
no  Leisure  ?  I  will  tell  thee,  my  friend,  what  Poor  Richard  says, 
Employ  thy  Time  well,  if  thou  meanest  to  gain  Leisure;  and,  since 
thou  art  not  sure  of  a  Minute,  throw  not  away  an  Hour.  Leisure 
is  Time  for  doing  something  useful;  this  Leisure  the  diligent 
Man  will  obtain,  but  the  lazy  Man  never;  so  that,  as  Poor  Richard 
says  A  Life  of  Leisure  and  a  Life  of  Laziness  are  two  Things.  Do 
you  imagine  that  Sloth  will  afford  you  more  Comfort  than  Labour? 
No,  for  as  Poor  Richard  says,  Trouble  springs  from  Idleness,  and 
grevious  Toil  from  needless  Ease.  Many  without  Labour,  would 
live  by  their  Wits  only,  but  they  break  for  want  of  Stock.  Whereas 
Industry  gives  Comfort,  and  Plenty,  and  Respect :  Fly  Pleasures, 
and  they'll  follow  you.  The  diligent  Spinner  has  a  large  Shift; 
and  now  I  have  a  Sheep  and  a  Cow,  everybody  bids  me  good  Mor 
row;  all  which  is  well  said  by  Poor  Richard. 

But  with  our  Industry,  we  must  likewise  be  steady,  settled  and 
careful,  and  oversee  our  own  Affairs  with  our  own  Eyes,  and  not 
trust  too  much  to  others;  for,  as  Poor  Richard  says 

I  never  saw  an  oft-removed  Tree, 

Nor  yet  an  oft-removed  Family, 

That  throve  so  well  as  those  that  settled  be. 

And  again,  Three  Removes  is  as  bad  as  a  Fire;  and  again,  Keep 
thy  Shop,  and  thy  Shop  will  keep  thee;  and  again,  //  you  would 
have  your  Business  done,  go;  if  not,  send.  And  again, 

He  that  by  the  Plough  would  thrive, 
Himself  must  either  hold  or  drive. 


BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN  319 

And  again,  The  Eye  of  a  Master  will  do  more  work  than  both  his 
Hands;  and  again,  Want  of  Care  does  us  more  Damage  than 
Want  of  Knowledge;  and  again,  Not  to  oversee  Workmen,  is  to 
leave  them  your  Purse  open.  Trusting  too  much  to  others'  Care 
is  the  Ruin  of  many;  for,  as  the  Almanack  says,  In  the  Affairs 
of  this  World,  Men  are  saved,  not  by  Faith,  but  by  the  Want  of  it; 
but  a  Man's  own  Care  is  profitable ;  for,  saith  Poor  Dick,  Learning 
is  to  the  Studious,  and  RkJtes  to  tJie  Careful,  as  well  as  Power  to 
the  Bold,  and  Heaven  to  the  Virtuous,  And  farther,  If  you  would 
have  a  faithful  Servant,  and  one  that  you  like,  sewe  yourself.  And 
again,  he  adviseth  to  Circumspection  and  Care,  even  in  the  smallest 
Matters,  because  sometimes  A  Little  Neglect  may  breed  great 
Mischief;  adding,  for  want  of  a  Nail  the  Shoe  was  lost;  for  want 
of  a  Shoe  the  Horse  was  lost;  and  for  want  of  a  Horse  the  Rider 
was  lost,  being  overtaken  and  slain  by  the  Enemy;  all  for  want  of 
Care  about  a  Horse-shoe  Nail. 


IRONICAL  ADVICE  TO   GREAT  BRITAIN 

[From  "Rules  by  which  a  Great  Empire  may  be  reduced  to  a  small  one." 
Published  in  the  Gentleman's  Magazine,  London,  1773] 

An  ancient  Sage  boasted,  that,  tho'  he  could  not  fiddle,  he  knew 
how  to  make  a  great  city  of  a  little  one.  The  science  that  I,  a 
modern  simpleton,  am  about  to  communicate,  is  the  very  reverse. 

I  address  myself  to  all  ministers  who  have  the  management 
of  extensive  dominions,  which  from  their  very  greatness  are  be 
come  troublesome  to  govern,  because  the  multiplicity  of  their 
affairs  leaves  no  time  for  fiddling. 

I.  In  the  first  place,  gentlemen,  you  are  to  consider,  that  a 
great  empire,  like  a  great  cake,  is  most  easily  diminished  at  the 
edges.     Turn   your   attention,    therefore,   first   to   your  remotest 
provinces;   that,  as  you  get  rid  of  them,  the  next  may  follow  in 
order. 

II.  That  the  possibility  of  this  separation  may  always  exist, 
take  special  care  the  provinces  are  never  incorporated  with  the 
mother  country;   that  they  do  not  enjoy  the  same  common  rights, 
the  same  privileges  in  commerce;   and  that  they  are  governed  by 
severer  laws,  all  of  your  enacting,  without  allowing  them  any  share 


320  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

in  the  choice  of  the  legislators.  By  carefully  making  and  pre 
serving  such  distinctions,  you  will  (to  keep  to  my  simile  of  the 
cake)  act  like  a  wise  ginger-bread-baker,  who,  to  facilitate  a  divi 
sion,  cuts  his  dough  half  through  in  those  places  where,  when 
baked,  he  would  have  it  broken  to  pieces. 

III.  Those   remote   provinces   have   perhaps   been   acquired, 
purchased,  or  conquered,  at  the  sole  expence  of  the  settlers,  or 
their  ancestors,  without  the  aid  of  the  mother  country.     If  this 
should  happen  to  increase  her  strength,  by  their  growing  numbers, 
ready  to  join  in  her  wars ;  her  commerce,  by  their  growing  demand 
for  her  manufactures ;  or  her  naval  power,  by  greater  employment 
for  her  ships  and  seamen,  they  may  probably  suppose  some  merit 
in  this,  and  that  it  entitles  them  to  some  favour;  you  are  therefore 
to  forget  it  all,  or  resent  it,  as  if  they  had  done  you  injury.     If  they 
happen  to  be  zealous  whigs,  friends  of  liberty,  nurtured  in  revolu 
tion  principles,  remember  all  that  to  their  prejudice,  and  resolve 
to  punish  it;   for  such  principles,  after  a  revolution  is  thoroughly 
established,  are  of  no  more  use;  they  are  even  odious  and  abomi 
nable. 

IV.  However  peaceably  your  colonies  have  submitted  to  your 
government,  shewn  their  affection  to  your  interests,  and  patiently 
borne  their  grievances;   you  are  to  suppose  them  always  inclined 
to  revolt,  and  treat  them  accordingly.    Quarter  troops  among  them, 
who  by  their  insolence  may  provoke  the  rising  of  mobs,  and  by 
their  bullets  and  bayonets  suppress  them.     By  this  means,  like 
the  husband  who  uses  his  wife  ill  from  suspicion,  you  may  in  time 
convert  your  suspicions  into  realities. 

V.  Remote  provinces  must  have  Governors  and  Judges,  to  rep 
resent  the  Royal  Person,  and  execute  everywhere  the  delegated 
parts  of  his  office  and  authority.     You  ministers  know,  that  much 
of  the  strength  of  government  depends  on  the  opinion  of  the  people ; 
and  much  of  that  opinion  on  the  choice  of  rulers  placed  immediately 
over  them.     If  you  send  them  wise  and  good  men  for  governors, 
who  study  the  interest  of  the  colonists,  and  advance  their  prosperity, 
they  will  think  their  King  wise  and  good,  and  that  he  wishes  the 
welfare  of  his  subjects.     If  you  send  them  learned  and  upright 
men  for  Judges,  they  will  think  him  a  lover  of  justice.     This  may 
attach  your  provinces  more  to  his  government,     You  are  therefore 


BENJAMIN   FRANKLIN  321 

to  be  careful  whom  you  recommend  for  those  offices.  If  you  can 
find  prodigals,  who  have  ruined  their  fortunes,  broken  gamesters 
or  stockjobbers,  these  may  do  well  as  governors;  for  they  will 
probably  be  rapacious,  and  provoke  the  people  by  their  extortions. 
Wrangling  proctors  and  pettifogging  lawyers,  too,  are  not  amiss; 
for  they  will  be  forever  disputing  and  quarrelling  with  their  little 
parliaments.  If  withal  they  should  be  ignorant,  wrongheaded, 
and  insolent,  so  much  the  better.  Attornies'  clerks  and  Newgate 
solicitors  will  do  for  Chief  Justices,  especially  if  they  hold  their 
places  during  your  pleasure;  and  all  will  contribute  to  impress 
those  ideas  of  your  government,  that  are  proper  for  a  people  you 
would  wish  to  renounce  it. 

VI.  To  confirm  these  impressions,   and  strike  them  deeper, 
whenever  the  injured  come  to  the  capital  with  complaints  of  mal 
administration,  oppression,  or  injustice,  punish  such  suitors  with 
long  delay,  enormous  expence,  and  a  final  judgment  in  favour  of 
the  oppressor.      This  will  have  an  admirable  effect    every  way. 
The  trouble  of  future  complaints  will  be  prevented,  and  Governors 
and  Judges  will  be  encouraged  to  farther  acts  of  oppression  and 
injustice;    and  thence  the  people  may  become  more  disaffected, 
and  at  length  desperate. 

VII.  When  such  Governors  have  crammed  their  coffers,  and 
made  themselves  so  odious  to  the  people  that  they  can  no  longer 
remain  among  them,  with  safety  to  their  persons,  recall  and  reu'ard 
them  with  pensions.     You  may  make  them  baronets  too,  if  that 
respectable  order  should  not  think  fit  to  resent  it.     All  will  con 
tribute  to  encourage  new  governors  in  the  same  practice,  and  make 
the  supreme  government  detestable. 

VIII.  If,  when  you  are  engaged  in  war,  your  colonies  should 
vie  in  liberal  aids  of  men  and  money  against  the  common  enemy, 
upon  your  simple  requisition,  and  give  far  beyond  their  abilities, 
reflect  that  a  penny  taken    from  them    by  your  power  is  more 
honourable  to  you,  than  a  pound  presented  by  their  benevolence ; 
despise  therefore  their  voluntary  grants,  and  resolve  to  harass  them 
with  novel  taxes.     They  will  probably  complain  to  your  parlia 
ments,  that  they  are  taxed  by  a  body  in  which  they  have  no  rep 
resentative,  and    that  this  is  contrary  to  common    right.     They 
will  petition  for  redress.     Let  the  Parliaments  flout  their  claims. 


322  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

reject  their  petitions,  refuse  even  to  suffer  the  reading  of  them, 
and  treat  the  petitioners  with  the  utmost  contempt.  Nothing 
can  have  a  better  effect  in  producing  the  alienation  proposed; 
for  though  many  can  forgive  injuries,  none  ever  forgave  contempt. 

EARLY  TRAINING 

[From  the  "Autobiography"] 

My  elder  brothers  were  all  put  apprentices  to  different  trades. 
I  was  put  to  the  grammar-school  at  eight  years  of  age,  my  father 
intending  to  devote  me,  as  the  tithe  of  his  sons,  to  the  service  of 
the  Church.  My  early  readiness  in  learning  to  read  (which  must 
have  been  very  early,  as  I  do  not  remember  when  I  could  not  read), 
and  the  opinion  of  all  his  friends  that  I  should  certainly  make  a 
good  scholar,  encouraged  him  in  this  purpose  of  his.  My  uncle 
Benjamin,  too,  approved  of  it,  and  proposed  to  give  me  all  his 
short-hand  volumes  of  sermons,  I  suppose  as  a  stock  to  set  up 
with,  if  I  would  learn  his  character.  I  continued,  however,  at 
the  grammar-school  not  quite  one  year,  though  in  that  time  I  had 
risen  gradually  from  the  middle  of  the  class  of  that  year  to  be  the 
head  of  it,  and  farther  was  removed  into  the  next  class  above  it, 
in  order  to  go  with  that  into  the  third  at  the  end  of  the  year.  But 
my  father,  in  the  mean  time,  from  a  view  of  the  expense  of  a  college 
education,  which  having  so  large  a  family  he  could  not  well  afford, 
and  the  mean  living  many  so  educated  were  afterwards  able  to 
obtain  —  reasons  that  he  gave  to  his  friends  in  my  hearing  — 
altered  his  first  intention,  took  me  from  the  grammar-school,  and 
sent  me  to  a  school  for  writing  and  arithmetic,  kept  by  a  then 
famous  man,  Mr.  George  Brownell,  very  successful  in  his  pro 
fession  generally,  and  that  by  mild,  encouraging  methods.  Under 
him  I  acquired  fair  writing  pretty  soon,  but  I  failed  in  the  arith 
metic,  and  made  no  progress  in  it.  At  ten  years  old  I  was  taken 
home  to  assist  my  father  in  his  business,  which  was  that  of  a  tallow- 
chandler  and  sope-boiler;  a  business  he  was  not  bred  to,  but  had 
assumed  on  his  arrival  in  New  England,  and  on  finding  his  dying 
trade  would  not  maintain  his  family,  being  in  little  request.  Ac 
cordingly,  I  was  employed  in  cutting  wick  for  the  candles,  filling 
the  dipping  mold  and  the  molds  for  cast  candles,  attending  the 
shop,  going  of  errands,  etc. 


BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN  323 

I  disliked  the  trade,  and  had  a  strong  inclination  for  the  sea, 
but  my  father  declared  against  it ;  however,  living  near  the  water, 
I  was  much  in  and  about  it,  learnt  early  to  swim  well,  and  to 
manage  boats ;  and  when  in  a  boat  or  canoe  with  other  boys,  I  was 
commonly  allowed  to  govern,  especially  in  any  case  of  difficulty; 
and  upon  other  occasions  I  was  generally  a  leader  among  the  boys, 
and  sometimes  led  them  into  scrapes,  of  which  I  will  mention  one 
instance,  as  it  shows  an  early  projecting  public  spirit,  tho'  not  then 
justly  conducted. 

There  was  a  salt-marsh  that  bounded  part  of  the  mill-pond,  on 
the  edge  of  which,  at  high  water,  we  used  to  stand  to  fish  for 
minnows.  By  much  trampling,  we  had  made  it  a  mere  quagmire. 
My  proposal  was  to  build  a  wharff  there  fit  for  us  to  stand  upon, 
and  I  showed  my  comrades  a  large  heap  of  stones,  which  were 
intended  for  a  new  house  near  the  marsh,  and  which  would  very 
well  suit  our  purpose.  Accordingly,  in  the  evening,  when  the 
workmen  were  gone,  I  assembled  a  number  of  my  playfellows, 
and  working  with  them  diligently,  like  so  many  emmets,  sometimes 
two  or  three  to  a  stone,  we  brought  them  all  away  and  built  our 
little  wharff.  The  next  morning  the  workmen  were  surprised  at 
missing  the  stones,  which  were  found  in  our  wharff.  Inquiry 
was  made  after  the  removers ;  we  were  discovered  and  complained 
of;  several  of  us  were  corrected  by  our  fathers;  and,  though  I 
pleaded  the  usefulness  of  the  work,  mine  convinced  me  that  nothing 
was  useful  which  was  not  honest. 

SCHEMES  FOR  SELF-IMPROVEMENT 

[From  the  "Autobiography"] 

About  this  time  I  met  with  an  odd  volume  of  the  Spectator. 
It  was  the  third.  I  had  never  before  seen  any  of  them.  I  bought 
it,  read  it  over  and  over,  and  was  much  delighted  with  it.  I 
thought  the  writing  excellent,  and  wished,  if  possible,  to  imitate 
it.  With  this  view  I  took  some  of  the  papers,  and  making  short 
hints  of  the  sentiment  in  each  sentence,  laid  them  by  a  few  days, 
and  then,  without  looking  at  the  book,  try'd  to  compleat  the  papers 
again,  by  expressing  each  hinted  sentiment  at  length,  and  as  fully 
as  it  had  been  expressed  before,  in  any  suitable  words  that  should 


324  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

come  to  hand.  Then  I  compared  my  Spectator  with  the  original, 
discovered  some  of  my  faults,  and  corrected  them.  But  I  found 
I  wanted  a  stock  of  words,  or  a  readiness  in  recollecting  and  using 
them,  which  I  thought  I  should  have  acquired  before  that  time 
if  I  had  gone  on  making  verses ;  since  the  continual  occasion  for 
words  of  the  same  import,  but  of  different  length,  to  suit  the 
measure,  or  of  different  sound  for  the  rhyme,  would  have  laid 
me  under  a  constant  necessity  of  searching  for  variety,  and  also 
have  tended  to  fix  that  variety  in  my  mind,  and  make  me  master 
of  it.  Therefore  I  took  some  of  the  tales  and  turned  them  into 
verse;  and,  after  a  time,  when  I  had  pretty  well  forgotten  the 
prose,  turned  them  back  again.  I  also  sometimes  jumbled  my 
collections  of  hints  into  confusion,  and  after  some  weeks  endeavored 
to  reduce  them  into  the  best  order,  before  I  began  to  form  the  full 
sentences  and  compleat  the  paper.  This  was  to  teach  me  method 
in  the  arrangement  of  thoughts.  By  comparing  my  work  after 
wards  with  the  original,  I  discovered  many  faults  and  amended 
them ;  but  I  sometimes  had  the  pleasure  of  fancying  that,  in  certain 
particulars  of  small  import,  I  had  been  lucky  enough  to  improve 
the  method  or  the  language,  and  this  encouraged  me  to  think  I 
might  possibly  in  time  come  to  be  a  tolerable  English  writer,  of 
which  I  was  extreamly  ambitious.  My  time  for  these  exercises 
and  for  reading  was  at  night,  after  work,  or  before  it  began  in 
the  morning,  or  on  Sundays,  when  I  contrived  to  be  in  the  printing- 
house  alone,  evading  as  much  as  I  could  the  common  attendance 
on  public  worship  which  my  father  used  to  exact  of  me  when  I  was 
under  his  care,  and  which  indeed  I  still  thought  a  duty,  though 
I  could  not,  as  it  seemed  to  me,  afford  time  to  practise  it. 

When  about  16  years  of  age  I  happened  to  meet  with  a  book, 
written  by  one  Tryon,  recommending  a  vegetable  diet.  I  deter 
mined  to  go  into  it.  My  brother,  being  yet  unmarried,  did  not 
keep  house,  but  boarded  himself  and  his  apprentices  in  another 
family.  My  refusing  to  eat  flesh  occasioned  an  inconveniency, 
and  I  was  frequently  chid  for  my  singularity.  I  made  myself 
acquainted  with  Tryon Js  manner  of  preparing  some  of  his  dishes, 
such  as  boiling  potatoes  or  rice,  making  hasty  pudding,  and  a  few 
others,  and  then  proposed  to  my  brother  that  if  he  would  give  me, 
weekly,  half  the  money  he  paid  for  my  board,  I  would  board  my- 


BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN  325 

self.  He  instantly  agreed  to  it  and  I  presently  found  that  I  could 
save  half  what  he  paid  me.  This  was  an  additional  fund  for  buy 
ing  books.  But  I  had  another  advantage  in  it.  My  brother 
and  the  rest  going  from  the  printing-house  to  their  meals,  I  re 
mained  there  alone,  and,  dispatching  presently  my  light  repast, 
which  often  was  no  more  than  a  bisket  or  a  slice  of  bread,  a  hand 
ful  of  raisins  or  a  tart  from  the  pastry-cook's,  and  a  glass  of  water, 
had  the  rest  of  the  time  till  their  return  for  study,  in  which  I  made 
the  greater  progress,  from  that  greater  clearness  of  head  and 
quicker  apprehension  which  usually  attend  temperance  in  eating 
and  drinking. 

And  now  it  was  that,  being  on  some  occasion  made  asham'd 
of  my  ignorance  in  figures,  which  I  had  twice  failed  in  learning 
when  at  school,  I  took  Cocker's  book  of  Arithmetick,  and  went 
through  the  whole  by  myself  with  great  ease.  I  also  read  Seller's 
and  Shermy's  books  of  Navigation,  and  became  acquainted  with 
the  little  geometry  they  contain;  but  never  proceeded  far  in  that 
science.  And  I  read  about  this  time  Locke  on  Human  Under 
standing,  and  the  Art  of  Thinking,  by  Messrs,  du  Port  Royal. 

While  I  was  intent  on  improving  my  language,  I  met  with  an 
English  grammar  (I  think  it  was  Greenwood's),  at  the  end  of 
which  there  were  two  little  sketches  of  the  arts  of  rhetoric  and 
logic,  the  latter  finishing  with  a  specimen  of  a  dispute  in  the 
Socratic  method;  and  soon  after  I  procur'd  Xenophon's  Memo 
rable  Things  of  Socrates,  wherein  there  are  many  instances  of  the 
same  method.  I  was  charm'd  with  it,  adopted  it,  dropt  my 
abrupt  contradiction  and  positive  argumentation,  and  put  on  the 
humble  inquirer  and  doubter.  And  being  then,  from  reading 
Shaftesbury  and  Collins,  become  a  real  doubter  in  many  points 
of  our  religious  doctrine,  I  found  this  method  safest  for  myself 
and  very  embarrassing  to  those  against  whom  I  used  it;  there 
fore  I  took  a  delight  in  it,  practis'd  it  continually,  and  grew  very 
artful  and  expert  in  drawing  people,  even  of  superior  knowledge, 
into  concessions,  the  consequences  of  which  they  did  not  foresee, 
entangling  them  in  difficulties  out  of  which  they  could  not  extricate 
themselves,  and  so  obtaining  victories  that  neither  myself  nor  my 
cause  always  deserved.  I  continu'd  this  method  some  few  years, 
but  gradually  left  it,  retaining  only  the  habit  of  expressing  myself 


326  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

in  terms  of  modest  diffidence;  never  using,  when  I  advanced 
anything  that  may  possibly  be  disputed,  the  words  certainly,  un 
doubtedly,  or  any  others  that  give  the  air  of  positiveness  to  an 
opinion;  but  rather  say,  I  conceive  or  apprehend  a  thing  to  be 
so  and  so ;  it  appears  to  me,  or  I  should  think  it  so  or  so,  for  such 
and  such  reasons ;  or  I  imagine  it  to  be  so;  or  it  is  so,  if  I  am  not 
mistaken.  This  habit,  I  believe,  has  been  of  great  advantage  to 
me  when  I  have  had  occasion  <to  inculcate  my  opinions,  and 
persuade  men  into  measures  that  I  have  been  from  time  to  time 
engag'd  in  promoting ;  and,  as  the  chief  ends  of  conversation  are 
to  inform  or  to  be  informed,  to  please  or  to  persuade,  I  wish  well- 
meaning,  sensible  men  would  not  lessen  their  power  of  doing 
good  by  a  positive,  assuming  manner,  that  seldom  fails  to  disgust, 
tends  to  create  opposition,  and  to  defeat  everyone  of  those  pur 
poses  for  which  speech  was  given  to  us,  to  wit,  giving  or  receiving 
information  or  pleasure.  For,  if  you  would  inform,  a  positive 
and  dogmatical  manner  in  advancing  your  sentiments  may  pro 
voke  contradiction  and  prevent  a  candid  attention.  If  you  wish 
information  and  improvement  from  the  knowledge  of  others, 
and  yet  at  the  same  time  express  yourself  as  firmly  fix'd  in  your 
present  opinions,  modest,  sensible  men,  who  do  not  love  disputa 
tion,  will  probably  leave  you  undisturbed  in  the  possession  of 
your  error.  And  by  such  a  manner,  you  can  seldom  hope  to  re 
commend  yourself  in  pleasing  your  hearers,  or  to  persuade  those 
whose  concurrence  you  desire.  Pope  says,  judiciously: 

"Men  should  be  taught  as  if  you  taught  them  not, 
And  things  unknown  proposed  as  things  forgot;" 

farther  recommending  to  us 

"  To  speak,  tho'  sure,  with  seeming  diffidence." 

And  he  might  have  coupled  with  this  line  that  which  he  has 
coupled  with  another,  I  think,  less  properly, 

"  For  want  of  modesty  is  want  of  sense." 
If  you  ask,  Why  less  properly?     I  must  repeat  the  lines, 

"  Immodest  words  admit  of  no  defense, 
For  want  of  modesty  is  want  of  sense." 


BEXJAMIX  FRAXKLIX 


3*7 


Now,  is  not  want  of  sense  (where  a  man  is  so  unfortunate  as  to 
want  it)  some  apology  for  his  want  of  modesty  ?  and  would  not  the 
lines  stand  more  justly  thus? 

"  Immodest  words  admit  but  this  defense, 
That  want  of  modesty  is  want  of  sense." 

This,  however,  I  should  submit  to  better  judgments. 

FRANKLIN'S   ENTRANCE   INTO   PHILADELPHIA 
[From  the  "Autobiography"] 

I  have  been  the  more  particular  in  this  description  of  my 
journey,  and  shall  be  so  of  my  first  entry  into  that  city,  that  you 
may  in  your  mind  compare  such  unlikely  beginnings  with  the 
figure  I  have  since  made  there.  I  was  in  my  working  dress,  my 
best  clothes  being  to  come  round  by  sea.  I  was  dirt}'  from  my 
journey;  my  pockets  were  stuff'd  out  with  shirts  and  stockings, 
and  I  knew  no  soul  nor  where  to  look  for  lodging.  I  was  fatigued 
with  travelling,  rowing,  and  want  of  rest,  I  was  very  hungry; 
and  my  whole  stock  of  cash  consisted  of  a  Dutch  dollar,  and  about 
a  shilling  in  copper.  The  latter  I  gave  the  people  of  the  boat  for 
my  passage,  who  at  first  ref us'd  it,  on  account  of  my  rowing  ; 
but  I  insisted  on  their  taking  it.  A  man  being  sometimes  more 
generous  when  he  has  but  a  little  money  than  when  he  has  plenty, 
perhaps  thro'  fear  of  being  thought  to  have  but  little. 

Then  I  walked  up  the  street,  gazing  about  till  near  the  market- 
house  I  met  a  boy  with  bread.  I  had  made  many  a  meal  on  bread, 
and  inquiring  where  he  got  it,  I  went  immediately  to  the  baker's 
he  directed  me  to,  in  Second-street,  and  ask'd  for  bisket,  intend 
ing  such  as  we  had  in  Boston;  but  they,  it  seems,  were  not  made 
in  Philadelphia.  Then  I  asked  for  a  three-penny  loaf,  and  was 
told  they  had  none  such.  So  not  considering  or  knowing  the 
difference  of  money,  and  the  greater  cheapness  nor  the  names  of 
his  bread,  I  bad  him  give  me  three-penny  worth  of  any  sort.  He 
gave  me,  accordingly,  three  great  puffy  rolls.  I  was  surpriz'd 
at  the  quantity,  but  took  it,  and  having  no  room  in  my  pockets, 
walk'd  off  with  a  roll  under  each  arm,  and  eating  the  other.  Thus 
I  went  up  Market-street  as  far  as  Fourth -street,  passing  by  the 


328  EARLY  AMERICAN   WRITERS 

door  of  Mr.  Read,  my  future  wife's  father;  when  she,  standing 
at  the  door,  saw  me,  and  thought  I  made,  as  I  certainly  did,  a 
most  awkward,  ridiculous  appearance.  Then  I  turned  and  went 
down  Chestnut-street  and  part  of  Walnut-street,  eating  my  roll 
all  the  way,  and  coming  round,  found  myself  again  at  Market- 
street  wharf,  near  the  boat  I  came  in,  to  which  I  went  for  a  draught 
of  the  river  water ;  and  being  filled  with  one  of  my  rolls,  gave  the 
other  two  to  a  woman  and  her  child  that  came  down  the  river  in 
the  boat  with  us,  and  were  waiting  to  go  farther. 

Thus  refreshed,  I  walked  again  up  the  street,  which  by  this 
time  had  many  clean-dressed  people  in  it,  who  were  all  walking 
the  same  way.  I  joined  them,  and  thereby  was  led  into  the  great 
meeting-house  of  the  Quakers  near  the  market.  I  sat  down 
among  them,  and  after  looking  round  awhile  and  hearing  nothing 
said,  being  very  drowsy  thro'  labour  and  want  of  rest  the  preceding 
night,  I  fell  fast  asleep,  and  continu'd  so  till  the  meeting  broke  up, 
when  one  was  kind  enough  to  rouse  me.  This  was,  therefore,  the 
first  house  I  was  in,  or  slept  in,  in  Philadelphia. 

Walking  down  again  toward  the  river,  and  looking  in  the  faces 
of  people,  I  met  a  young  Quaker  man,  whose  countenance  I  lik'd, 
and,  accosting  him,  requested  he  would  tell  me  where  a  stranger 
could  get  lodging.  We  were  then  near  the  sign  of  the  Three 
Mariners.  "Here, "says he,  "is  one  place  that  entertains  strangers, 
but  it  is  not  a  reputable  house;  if  thee  wilt  walk  with  me,  I'll 
show  thee  a  better."  He  brought  me  to  the  Crooked  Billet  in 
Water-street.  Here  I  got  a  dinner;  and  while  I  was  eating  it, 
several  sly  questions  were  asked  me,  as  it  seemed  to  be  suspected 
from  my  youth  and  appearance  that  I  might  be  some  runaway. 

After  dinner,  my  sleepiness  return'd,  and  being  shown  to  a  bed, 
I  lay  down  without  undressing,  and  slept  till  six  in  the  evening, 
was  call'd  to  supper,  went  to  bed  again  very  early,  and  slept 
soundly  till  next  morning.  Then  I  made  myself  as  tidy  as  I  could, 
and  went  to  Andrew  Bradford  the  printer's.  I  found  in  the  shop 
the  old  man  his  father,  whom  I  had  seen  at  New  York,  and  who, 
travelling  on  horseback,  had  got  to  Philadelphia  before  me.  He 
introduc'd  me  to  his  son,  who  receiv'd  me  civilly,  gave  me  a  break 
fast,  but  told  me  he  did  not  at  present  want  a  hand,  being  lately 
suppli'd  with  one;  but  there  was  another  printer  in  town,  lately 


BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN  329 

set  up,  one  Keimer,  who,  perhaps,  might  employ  me;  if  not,  I 
should  be  welcome  to  lodge  at  his  house,  and  he  would  give  me 
a  little  work  to  do  now  and  then  till  fuller  business  should  offer. 

The  old  gentleman  said  he  would  go  with  me  to  the  new  printer ; 
and  when  we  found  him,  "Neighbor,"  says  Bradford,  "I  have 
brought  to  see  you  a  young  man  of  your  business;  perhaps  you 
may  want  such  a  one."  He  ask'd  me  a  few  questions,  put  a  com 
posing  stick  in  my  hand  to  see  how  I  work'd,  and  then  said  he 
would  employ  me  soon,  though  he  had  just  then  nothing  for  me 
to  do ;  and  taking  old  Bradford,  whom  he  had  never  seen  before, 
to  be  one  of  the  town's  people  that  had  a  good  will  for  him,  enter'd 
into  a  conversation  on  his  present  undertaking  and  prospects; 
while  Bradford,  not  discovering  that  he  was  the  other  printer's 
father,  on  Keimer's  saying  he  expected  soon  to  get  the  greatest 
part  of  the  business  into  his  own  hands,  drew  him  on  by  artful 
questions,  and  starting  little  doubts,  to  explain  all  his  views,  what 
interest  he  reli'd  on,  and  in  what  manner  he  intended  to  proceed. 
I,  who  stood  by  and  heard  all,  saw  immediately  that  one  of  them 
was  a  crafty  old  sophister,  and  the  other  a  mere  novice.  Bradford 
left  me  with  Keimer,  who  was  greatly  surpris'd  when  I  told  him 
who  the  old  man  was. 

Keimer's  printing-house,  I  found,  consisted  of  an  old  shatter'd 
press,  and  one  small,  worn-out  font  of  English,  which  he  was  then 
using  himself,  composing  an  Elegy  on  Aquila  Rose,  before  men 
tioned,  an  ingenious  young  man,  of  excellent  character,  much 
respected  in  the  town,  clerk  of  the  Assembly,  and  a  pretty  poet. 
Keimer  made  verses  too,  but  very  indifferently.  He  could  not 
be  said  to  write  them,  for  his  manner  was  to  compose  them  in 
the  types  directly  out  of  his  head.  So  there  being  no  copy,  but 
one  pair  of  cases,  and  the  Elegy  likely  to  require  all  the  letter, 
no  one  could  help  him.  I  endeavour'd  to  put  his  press  (which 
he  had  not  yet  us'd,  and  of  which  he  understood  nothing)  into 
order  fit  to  be  work'd  with ;  and  promising  to  come  and  print  off 
his  Elegy  as  soon  as  he  should  have  got  it  ready,  I  return'd  to 
Bradford's,  who  gave  me  a  little  job  to  do  for  the  present,  and 
there  I  lodged  and  dieted.  A  few  days  after,  Keimer  sent  for 
me  to  print  off  the  Elegy.  And  now  he  had  got  another  pair  of 
cases,  and  a  pamphlet  to  reprint,  on  which  he  set  me  to  work. 


330  EARLY  AMERICAN   WRITERS 

These  two  printers  I  found  poorly  qualified  for  their  business. 
Bradford  had  not  been  bred  to  it,  and  was  very  illiterate;  and 
Keimer,  tho'  something  of  a  scholar,  was  a  mere  compositor  know 
ing  nothing  of  presswork.  He  had  been  one  of  the  French 
prophets,  and  could  act  their  enthusiastic  agitations.  At  this 
time  he  did  not  profess  any  particular  religion,  but  something  of 
all  on  occasion;  was  very  ignorant  of  the  world,  and  had,  as  I 
afterward  found,  a  good  deal  of  the  knave  in  his  composition. 
He  did  not  like  my  lodging  at  Bradford's  while  I  work'd  with  him. 
He  had  a  house,  indeed,  but  without  furniture,  so  he  could  not 
lodge  me;  but  he  got  me  a  lodging  at  Mr.  Read's  before  men 
tioned,  who  was  the  owner  of  his  house ;  and  my  chest  and  clothes 
being  come  by  this  time,  I  made  rather  a  more  respectable  appear 
ance  in  the  eyes  of  Miss  Read  than  I  had  done  when  she  first 
happen'd  to  see  me  eating  my  roll  in  the  street. 

PLANS  FOR  STREET  IMPROVEMENTS 

[From  the  "  Autobiography  "] 

Our  city,  tho'  laid  out  with  a  beautiful  regularity,  the  streets 
large,  strait,  and  crossing  each  other  at  right  angles,  had  the  dis 
grace  of  suffering  those  streets  to  remain  long  unpav'd,  and  in  wet 
weather  the  wheels  of  heavy  carriages  plough 'd  them  into  a  quag 
mire,  so  that  it  was  difficult  to  cross  them;  and  in  dry  weather 
the  dust  was  offensive.  I 'had  liv'd  near  what  was  call'd  the  Jersey 
Market,  and  saw  with  pain  the  inhabitants  wading  in  mud  while 
purchasing  their  provisions.  A  strip  of  ground  down  the  middle 
of  that  market  was  at  length  pav'd  with  brick,  so  that,  being  once 
in  the  market,  they  had  firm  footing,  but  were  often  over  shoes  in 
dirt  to  get  there.  By  talking  and  writing  on  the  subject,  I  was  at 
length  instrumental  in  getting  the  street  pav'd  with  stone  between 
the  market  and  the  brick'd  foot-pavement,  that  was  on  each  side 
next  the  houses.  This,  for  some  time,  gave  an  easy  access  to  the 
market  dry-shod;  but  the  rest  of  the  street  not  being  pav'd, 
whenever  a  carriage  came  out  of  the  mud  upon  this  pavement, 
it  shook  off  and  left  its  dirt  upon  it,  and  it  was  soon  cover'd  with 
mire,  which  was  not  remov'd,  the  city  as  yet  having  no  scavengers. 

After  some  inquiry,  I  found  a  poor,  industrious  man,  who  was 


BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN  331 

willing  to  undertake  keeping  the  pavement  clean,  by  sweeping  it 
twice  a  week,  carrying  off  the  dirt  from  before  all  the  neighbours' 
doors,  for  the  sum  of  sixpence  per  month,  to  be  paid  by  each  house. 
I  then  wrote  and  printed  a  paper  setting  forth  the  advantages 
to  the  neighbourhood  that  might  be  obtain'd  by  this  small  expense ; 
the  greater  ease  in  keeping  our  houses  clean,  so  much  dirt  not  being 
brought  in  by  people's  feet ;  the  benefit  to  the  shops  by  more  custom, 
etc.,  etc.,  as  buyers  could  more  easily  get  at  them;  and  by  not 
having,  in  windy  weather,  the  dust  blown  in  upon  their  goods, 
etc.,  etc.  I  sent  one  of  these  papers  to  each  house,  and  in  a  day 
or  two  went  round  to  see  who  would  subscribe  an  agreement  to 
pay  these  sixpences;  it  was  unanimously  sign'd,  and  for  a  time 
well  executed.  All  the  inhabitants  of  the  city  were  delighted  with 
the  cleanliness  of  the  pavement  that  surrounded  the  market,  it 
being  a  convenience  to  all,  and  this  rais'd  a  general  desire  to  have 
all  the  streets  paved,  and  made  the  people  more  willing  to  submit 
to  a  tax  for  that  purpose. 

After  some  time  I  drew  a  bill  for  paving  the  city,  and  brought 
it  into  the  Assembly.  It  was  just  before  I  went  to  England,  in 
1757,  and  did  not  pass  till  I  was  gone,  and  then  with  an  alteration 
in  the  mode  of  assessment,  which  I  thought  not  for  the  better, 
but  with  an  additional  provision  for  lighting  as  well  as  paving 
the  streets,  which  was  a  great  improvement.  It  was  by  a  private 
person,  the  late  Mr.  John  Clifton,  his  giving  a  sample  of  the  utility 
of  lamps,  by  placing  one  at  his  door,  that  the  people  were  first 
impress'd  with  the  idea  of  enlighting  all  the  city.  The  honour 
of  this  public  benefit  has  also  been  ascrib'd  to  me,  but  it  belongs 
truly  to  that  gentleman.  I  did  but  follow  his  example,  and  have 
only  some  merit  to  claim  respecting  the  form  of  our  lamps,  as 
differing  from  the  globe  lamps  we  were  at  first  suppli'd  with  from 
London.  Those  we  found  inconvenient  in  these  respects:  they 
admitted  no  air  below;  the  smoke,  therefore,  did  not  readily  go 
out  above,  but  circulated  in  the  globe,  lodg'd  on  its  inside,  and  soon 
obstructed  the  light  they  were  intended  to  afford ;  giving,  besides, 
the  daily  trouble  of  wiping  them  clean ;  and  an  accidental  stroke 
on  one  of  them  would  demolish  it  and  render  it  totally  useless. 
I  therefore  suggested  the  composing  them  of  four  flat  panes,  with 
a  long  funnel  above  to  draw  up  the  smoke,  and  crevices  admitting 


332  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

air  below,  to  facilitate  the  ascent  of  the  smoke;  by  this  means 
they  were  kept  clean,  and  did  not  grow  dark  in  a  few  hours,  as  the 
London  lamps  do,  but  continu'd  bright  till  morning,  and  an  ac 
cidental  stroke  would  generally  break  but  a  single  pane,  easily 
repair'd. 

I  have  sometimes  wonder'd  that  the  Londoners  did  not,  from 
the  effect  holes  in  the  bottom  of  the  globe  lamps  us'd  at  Vauxhall 
have  in  keeping  them  clean,  learn  to  have  such  holes  in  their 
street  lamps.  But,  these  holes  being  made  for  another  purpose, 
viz.,  to  communicate  flame  more  suddenly  to  the  wick  by  a  little 
flax  hanging  down  thro'  them,  the  other  use,  of  letting  in  air, 
seems  not  to  have  been  thought  of;  and  therefore,  after  the  lamps 
have  been  lit  a  few  hours,  the  streets  of  London  are  very  poorly 
illuminated. 

THE    WHISTLE 

[To  Madame  Brillion] 

PASSY,  November  10,  1779. 

I  received  my  dear  friend's  two  letters,  one  for  Wednesday 
and  one  for  Saturday.  This  is  again  Wednesday.  I  do  not  de 
serve  one  for  to-day,  because  I  have  not  answered  the  former.  But, 
indolent  as  I  am,  and  averse  to  writing,  the  fear  of  having  no  more 
of  your  pleasing  epistles,  if  I  do  not  contribute  to  the  correspond 
ence,  obliges  me  to  take  up  my  pen;  and  as  Mr.  B.  has  kindly 
sent  me  word,  that  he  sets  out  to-morrow  to  see  you,  instead  of 
spending  this  Wednesday  evening  as  I  have  done  its  namesakes, 
in  your  delightful  company,  I  sit  down  to  spend  it  in  thinking  of 
you,  in  writing  to  you,  and  in  reading  over  and  over  again  your 
letters. 

I  am  charmed  with  your  description  of  Paradise,  and  with  your 
plan  of  living  there ;  and  I  approve  much  of  your  conclusion,  that, 
in  the  mean  time,  we  should  draw  all  the  good  we  can  from  this 
world.  In  my  opinion,  we  might  all  draw  more  good  from  it 
than  we  do,  and  suffer  less  evil,  if  we  would  take  care  not  to  give 
too  much  for  whistles.  For  to  me  it  seems,  that  most  of  the  un 
happy  people  we  meet  with,  are  become,  so  by  neglect  of  that 
caution. 


BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN  333 

You  ask  what  I  mean?  You  love  stories,  and  will  excuse  my 
telling  one  of  myself. 

When  I  was  a  child  of  seven  years  old,  my  friends,  on  a  holiday, 
filled  my  pocket  with  coppers.  I  went  directly  to  a  shop  where 
they  sold  toys  for  children ;  and,  being  charmed  with  the  sound  of 
a  whistle,  that  I  met  by  the  way  in  the  hands  of  another  boy,  I 
voluntarily  offered  and  gave  all  my  money  for  one.  I  then  came 
home,  and  went  whistling  all  over  the  house,  much  pleased  with 
my  whistle,  but  disturbing  all  the  family.  My  brothers,  and 
sisters,  and  cousins,  understanding  the  bargain  I  had  made,  told 
me  I  had  given  four  times  as  much  for  it  as  it  was  worth ;  put  me 
in  mind  what  good  things  I  might  have  bought  with  the  rest  of 
the  money ;  and  laughed  at  me  so  much  for  my  folly,  that  I  cried 
with  vexation;  and  the  reflection  gave  me  more  chagrin  than  the 
whistle  gave  me  pleasure. 

This  however  was  afterwards  of  use  to  me,  the  impression  con 
tinuing  on  my  mind;  so  that  often,  when  I  was  tempted  to  buy 
some  unnecessary  thing,  I  said  to  myself,  Don't  give  too  much 
for  the  whistle;  and  I  saved  my  money. 

As  I  grew  up,  came  into  the  world,  and  observed  the  actions  of 
men,  I  thought  I  met  with  many,  very  many,  who  gave  too  much 
for  the  whistle. 

When  I  saw  one  too  ambitious  of  court  favour,  sacrificing  his 
time  in  attendance  on  levees,  his  repose,  his  liberty,  his  virtue, 
and  perhaps  his  friends,  to  attain  it,  I  have  said  to  myself,  This 
man  gives  too  much  for  his  whistle. 

When  I  saw  another  fond  of  popularity,  constantly  employing 
himself  in  political  bustles,  neglecting  his  own  affairs,  and  ruining 
them  by  that  neglect,  He  pays,  indeed,  said  I,  too  much  for  his 
whistle. 

If  I  knew  a  miser,  who  gave  up  every  kind  of  comfortable  living, 
all  the  pleasure  of  doing  good  to  others,  all  the  esteem  of  his  fellow- 
citizens,  and  the  joys  of  benevolent  friendship,  for  the  sake  of 
accumulating  wealth,  Poor  man,  said  I,  you  pay  too  much  for  your 
whistle. 

When  I  met  with  a  man  of  pleasure,  sacrificing  every  laudable 
improvement  of  the  mind,  or  of  his  fortune,  to  mere  corporeal 
sensations,  and  ruining  his  health  in  their  pursuit,  Mistaken  man, 


334  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

said  I,  you  are  providing  pain  for  yourself,  instead  of  pleasure; 
you  give  too  much  for  your  whistle. 

If  I  see  one  fond  of  appearance,  or  fine  clothes,  fine  houses, 
fine  furniture,  fine  equipages,  all  above  his  fortune,  for  which  he 
contracts  debts,  and  ends  his  career  in  a  prison,  Alas  I  say  I,  he 
has  paid  dear,  very  dear,  for  his  whistle. 

When  I  see  a  beautiful,  sweet-tempered  girl  married  to  an  ill- 
natured  brute  of  a  husband,  what  a  pity,  say  I,  that  she  should  pay 
so  much  for  a  whistle ! 

In  short,  I  conceive  that  great  part  of  the  miseries  of  mankind 
are  brought  upon  them  by  the  false  estimates  they  have  made  of 
the  value  of  things,  and  by  their  giving  too  much  for  their  whistles. 

Yet  I  ought  to  have  charity  for  these  unhappy  people,  when  I 
consider  that,  with  all  this  wisdom  of  which  I  am  boasting,  there 
are  certain  things  in  the  world  so  tempting,  for  example,  the  apples 
of  King  John,  which  happily  are  not  to  be  bought ;  for  if  they  were 
put  to  sale  by  auction,  I  might  very  easily  be  led  to  ruin  myself 
in  the  purchase,  and  find  that  I  had  once  more  given  too  much  for 
the  whistle. 

Adieu,  my  dear  friend,  and  believe  me  ever  yours  very  sincerely 
and  with  unalterable  affection, 

B.  FRANKLIN. 


PATRICK  HENRY 

[Patrick  Henry  was  one  of  the  most  famous  of  Revolutionary  orators, 
though  his  reputation  to-day  rests  mostly  on  tradition,  and  on  confessedly 
inaccurate  reports  of  a  few  of  his  speeches.  He  was  born  in  Virginia  in 
1736,  and  after  completing  his  education,  engaged  unsuccessfully  in  busi 
ness.  In  1760  he  took  up  the  practice  of  law,  and  soon  established  his  repu 
tation  as  an  orator.  In  1765  he  became  a  member  of  the  House  of  Burgesses. 
Here,  according  to  the  well-known  anecdote,  the  awkward  and  unknown 
country  member  introduced  outspoken  resolutions  denouncing  the  Stamp 
Act,  and  stampeded  the  house  in  their  favor  by  his  speech  containing  the 
famous  climax:  "Caesar  had  his  Brutus;  Charles  the  First  had  his  Crom 
well;  and  George  the  Third  —  may  profit  by  their  example."  From  this 
time  he  was  active  in  the  public  affairs  of  the  colony  and  the  country.  He 
held  many  official  positions,  among  them  member  of  the  continental  congress 
and  governor  of  Virginia;  and  he  declined  appointments  as  secretary  of 
state,  chief  justice  of  the  United  States,  and  minister  to  France,  which  were 
offered  him  after  the  organization  of  the  national  government. 

Few  of  Henry's  orations  have  been  preserved  in  authentic  form.  The 
traditional  version  of  his  most  famous  speech,  delivered  in  the  Virginia  con 
vention  of  1775,  is  given  partly  transposed  into  the  third  person,  in  Wirt's 
''Life  of  Patrick  Henry."  His  speeches  in  the  convention  of  1788,  where 
he  objected  to  the  proposed  national  constitution  as  tending  to  a  strongly 
centralized  government,  were  printed  by  a  shorthand  reporter  who  admitted 
that  his  version  was  verbally  inaccurate.  Unsatisfactory  as  these  literary 
remains  are,  they  are  sufficient  to  show  the  style  of  the  speaker,  and  they  and 
the  traditions  that  accompanied  them  had  a  great  influence  on  later  American 
oratory. 

The  first  selection  is  based  on  the  report  of  the  1775  speech  in  Wirt's 
"Life  of  Patrick  Henry."  The  selections  from  the  speech  before  the  con 
vention  of  1788  are  from  the  shorthand  report  already  referred  to,  as  given 
in  the  "Life,  Correspondence  and  Speeches  of  Patrick  Henry,"  by  William 
Wirt  Henry.] 

LIBERTY  OR  DEATH 
[As  reported  in  Wirt's  "Life  of  Patrick  Henry"  '] 

Mr.  President,  it  is  natural  to  man  to  indulge  in  the  illusions  of 
hope.  We  are  apt  to  shut  our  eyes  against  a  painful  truth  —  and 

[l  As  cited  by  Wirt,  part  of  this  speech  is  paraphrased  with  change  of  person 
and  number.  It  is  here  transposed  into  the  obvious  form  of  direct  discourse.] 

335 


336  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

listen  to  the  song  of  that  siren,  till  she  transforms  us  into  beasts. 
Is  this  the  part  of  wise  men,  engaged  in  a  great  and  arduous  struggle 
for  liberty?  Are  we  disposed  to  be  of  the  number  of  those,  who 
having  eyes,  see  not,  and  having  ears,  hear  not,  the  things  which 
so  nearly  concern  their  temporal  salvation?  For  my  part,  what 
ever  anguish  of  spirit  it  may  cost,  I  am  willing  to  know  the 
whole  truth ;  to  know  the  worst,  and  to  provide  for  it. 

I  have  but  one  lamp  by  which  my  feet  are  guided,  and  that  is 
the  lamp  of  experience.  I  know  of  no  way  of  judging  of  the  future 
but  by  the  past.  And  judging  by  the  past,  I  wish  to  know  what 
there  has  been  in  the  conduct  of  the  British  ministry  for  the  last 
ten  years,  to  justify  those  hopes  with  which  gentlemen  have  been 
pleased  to  solace  themselves  and  the  house?  Is  it  that  insidious 
smile  with  which  our  petition  has  been  lately  received  ?  Trust  it 
not,  sir;  it  will  prove  a  snare  to  your  feet.  Suffer  not  yourselves 
to  be  betrayed  with  a  kiss.  Ask  yourselves  how  this  gracious 
reception  of  our  petition  comports  with  those  warlike  preparations 
which  cover  our  waters  and  darken  our  land.  Are  fleets  and  armies 
necessary  to  a  work  of  love  and  reconciliation?  Have  we  shown 
ourselves  so  unwilling  to  be  reconciled,  that  force  must  be  called 
in  to  win  back  our  love  ?  Let  us  not  deceive  ourselves,  sir.  These 
are  the  implements  of  war  and  subjugation  —  the  last  argu 
ments  to  which  kings  resort.  I  ask  gentlemen,  sir,  what  means 
this  martial  array,  if  its  purpose  be  not  to  force  us  to  submission? 
Can  gentlemen  assign  any  other  possible  motive  for  it?  Has 
Great  Britain  any  enemy  in  this  quarter  of  the  world,  to  call  for  all 
this  accumulation  of  navies  and  armies?  No,  sir,  she  has  none. 
They  are  meant  for  us :  they  can  be  meant  for  no  other.  They  are 
sent  over  to  bind  and  rivet  upon  us  those  chains  which  the  British 
ministry  have  been  so  long  forging.  And  what  have  we  to  oppose 
to  them?  Shall  we  try  argument?  Sir,  we  have  been  trying  that 
for  the  last  ten  years.  Have  we  any  thing  new  to  offer  upon  the 
subject.  Nothing.  We  have  held  the  subject  up  in  every  light 
of  which  it  is  capable ;  but  it  has  been  all  in  vain.  Shall  we  resort 
to  entreaty  and  humble  supplication?  What  terms  shall  we  find, 
which  have  not  been  already  exhausted?  Let  us  not,  I  beseech 
you,  sir,  deceive  ourselves  longer.  Sir,  we  have  done  every  thing 
that  could  be  done,  to  avert  the  storm  which  is  now  coming  on. 


PATRICK  HENRY  337 

We  have  petitioned  —  we  have  remonstrated  —  we  have  sup 
plicated  —  we  have  prostrated  ourselves  before  the  throne,  and 
have  implored  its  interposition  to  arrest  the  tyrannical  hands  of  the 
ministry  and  Parliament.  Our  petitions  have  been  slighted ;  our 
remonstrances  have  produced  additional  violence  and  insult;  our 
supplications  have  been  disregarded ;  and  we  have  been  spurned 
with  contempt,  from  the  foot  of  the  throne.  In  vain,  after  these 
things,  may  we  indulge  the  fond  hope  of  peace  and  reconciliation. 
There  is  no  longer  any  room  for  hope.  If  we  wish  to  be  free  —  if 
we  mean  to  preserve  inviolate  those  inestimable  privileges  for 
which  we  have  been  so  long  contending  —  if  we  mean  not  basely 
to  abandon  the  noble  struggle  in  which  we  have  been  so  long 
engaged,  and  which  we  have  pledged  ourselves  never  to  abandon, 
until  the  glorious  object  of  our  contest  shall  be  obtained  —  we  must 
fight !  —  I  repeat  it,  sir,  we  must  fight !  An  appeal  to  arms  and 
to  the  God  of  Hosts,  is  all  that  is  left  us ! 

They  tell  us,  sir,  that  we  are  weak  —  unable  to  cope  with  so 
formidable  an  adversary.  But  when  shall  we  be  stronger?  Will 
it  be  the  next  week  or  the  next  year?  Will  it  be  when  we  are 
totally  disarmed,  and  when  a  British  guard  shall  be  stationed  in 
every  house?  Shall  we  gather  strength  by  irresolution  and  in 
action?  Shall  we  acquire  the  means  of  effectual  resistance  by 
lying  supinely  on  our  backs,  and  hugging  the  delusive  phantom 
of  hope,  until  our  enemies  shall  have  bound  us  hand  and  foot? 
Sir,  we  are  not  weak,  if  we  make  a  proper  use  of  those  means  which 
the  God  of  nature  hath  placed  in  our  power.  Three  millions  of 
people  armed  in  the  holy  cause  of  liberty,  and  in  such  a  country  as 
that  which  we  possess,  are  invincible  by  any  force  which  our  enemy 
can  send  against  us.  Besides,  sir,  we  shall  not  fight  our  battles 
alone.  There  is  a  just  God  who  presides  over  the  destinies  of 
nations,  and  who  will  raise  up  friends  to  fight  our  battles  for  us. 
The  battle,  sir,  is  not  to  the  strong  alone ;  it  is  to  the  vigilant,  the 
active,  the  brave.  Besides,  sir,  we  have  no  election.  If  we  were 
base  enough  to  desire  it,  it  is  now  too  late  to  retire  from  the  contest. 
There  is  no  retreat  but  in  submission  and  slavery !  Our  chains 
are  forged.  Their  clanking  may  be  heard  on  the  plains  of  Boston  ! 
The  war  is  inevitable  —  and  let  it  come ! !  I  repeat  it,  sir,  let  it 
come ! ! ! 


338  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

It  is  vain,  sir,  to  extenuate  the  matter.  Gentlemen  may  cry, 
peace,  peace  —  but  there  is  no  peace.  The  war  is  actually  begun ! 
The  next  gale  that  sweeps  from  the  north  will  bring  to  our  ears 
the  clash  of  resounding  arms !  Our  brethren  are  already  in  the 
field !  Why  stand  we  here  idle  ?  What  is  it  that  gentlemen  wish  ? 
What  would  they  have  ?  Is  life  so  dear,  or  peace  so  sweet,  as  to 
be  purchased  at  the  price  of  chains  and  slavery?  Forbid  it, 
Almighty  God!  I  know  not  what  course  others  may  take;  but 
as  for  me,  give  me  liberty,  or  give  me  death ! 


AGAINST  A  CONSOLIDATED  GOVERNMENT 

[From  the  shorthand  report  of  the  Virginia  Convention  of  1788] 

The  honorable  gentleman's  observations  respecting  the  people's 
right  of  being  the  agents  in  the  formation  of  this  government,  are 
not  accurate  in  my  humble  conception.  The  distinction  between  a 
national  government  and  a  confederacy  is  not  sufficiently  discerned. 
Had  the  delegates  who  were  sent  to  Philadelphia  a  power  to  propose 
a  consolidated  government  instead  of  a  confederacy?  Were  they 
not  deputed  by  states,  and  not  by  the  people  ?  The  assent  of  the 
people  in  their  collective  capacity  is  not  necessary  to  the  forma 
tion  of  a  federal  government.  The  people  have  no  right  to  enter 
into  leagues,  alliances,  or  confederations :  they  are  not  the  proper 
agents  for  this  purpose :  states  and  sovereign  powers  are  the  only 
proper  agents  for  this  kind  of  government :  show  me  an  instance 
where  the  people  have  exercised  this  business:  has  it  not  always 
gone  through  the  legislatures?  I  refer  you  to  the  treaties  with 
France,  Holland,  and  other  nations :  how  were  they  made  ?  Were 
they  not  made  by  the  states?  Are  the  people  therefore  in  their 
aggregate  capacity,  the  proper  persons  to  form  a  confederacy? 
This,  therefore,  ought  to  depend  on  the  consent  of  the  legislatures; 
the  people  having  never  sent  delegates  to  make  any  proposition 
of  changing  the  government.  Yet  I  must  say,  at  the  same  time, 
that  it  was  made  on  grounds  the  most  pure,  and  perhaps  I  might 
have  been  brought  to  consent  to  it  so  far  as  to  the  change  of  govern 
ment;  but  there  is  one  thing  in  it  which  I  never  would  acquiesce 


PATRICK  HENRY  339 

in.     I   mean  the  changing  it  into  a  consolidated  government; 
which  is  so  abhorrent  to  my  mind. 

The  honorable  gentleman  then  went  on  to  the  figure  we  ma,  / 
with  foreign  nations;  the  contemptible  one  we  make  in  Franc » 
and  Holland;  which,  according  to  the  substance  of  my  notes,  he 
attributes  to  the  present  feeble  government.  An  opinion  has  gone 
forth,  we  find,  that  we  are  a  contemptible  people :  the  time  has 
been  when  we  were  thought  otherwise.  Under  this  same  despised 
government,  we  commanded  the  respect  of  all  Europe :  wherefore 
are  we  now  reckoned  otherwise  ?  The  American  spirit  has  fled 
from  hence:  it  has  gone  to  regions,  where  it  has  never  been  ex 
pected  :  it  has  gone  to  the  people  of  France  in  search  of  a  splendid 
government  —  a  strong  energetic  government.  Shall  we  imitate 
the  example  of  those  nations  who  have  gone  from  a  simple  to  a 
splendid  government?  Are  those  nations  more  worthy  of  our 
imitation?  What  can  make  an  adequate  satisfaction  to  them  for 
the  loss  they  have  suffered  in  attaining  such  a  government  —  for 
the  loss  of  their  liberty?  If  we  admit  this  consolidated  govern 
ment,  it  will  be  because  wre  like  a  great  splendid  one.  Some  way 
or  other  we  must  be  a  great  and  mighty  empire;  we  must  have 
an  army,  and  a  navy,  and  a  number  of  things.  When,  the  American 
spirit  was  in  its  youth,  the  language  of  America  was  different: 
liberty,  sir,  was  then  the  primary  object.  We  are  descended  from 
a  people  whose  government  was  founded  on  liberty :  our  glorious 
forefathers  of  Great  Britain,  made  liberty  the  foundation  of  every 
thing.  That  country  is  become  a  great,  mighty  and  splendid 
nation;  not  because  their  government  is  strong  and  energetic; 
but,  sir,  because  liberty  is  its  direct  end  and  foundation.  We  drew 
the  spirit  of  liberty  from  our  British  ancestors:  by  that  spirit  we 
have  triumphed  over  every  difficulty.  But  now,  sir,  the  American 
spirit,  assisted  by  the  ropes  and  chains  of  consolidation,  is  about 
to  convert  this  country  into  a  powerful  and  mighty  empire;  if 
you  make  the  citizens  of  this  country  agree  to  become  the  subjects 
of  one  great  consolidated  empire  of  America,  your  government 
will  not  have  sufficient  energy  to  keep  them  together:  such  a 
government  is  incompatible  with  the  genius  of  republicanism. 
There  will  be  no  checks,  no  real  balances,  in  this  government. 
What  can  avail  your  specious,  imaginary  balances,  your  rope- 


340  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

dancing,  chain-rattling,  ridiculous  ideal  checks  and  contrivances? 
But,  sir,  we  are  not  feared  by  foreigners;  we  do  not  make  nations 
tremble.  Would  this  constitute  happiness,  or  secure  liberty? 
I  trust,  sir,  our  political  hemisphere  will  ever  direct  their  operations 
to  the  security  of  those  objects. 

Consider  our  situation,  sir:  go  to  the  poor  man,  ask  him  what 
he  does ;  he  will  inform  you  that  he  enjoys  the  fruits  of  his  labor, 
under  his  own  fig-tree,  with  his  wife  and  children  around  him,  in 
peace  and  security.  Go  to  every  other  member  of  the  society,  you 
will  find  the  same  tranquil  ease  and  content;  you  will  find  no 
alarms  or  disturbances !  Why  then  tell  us  of  dangers  to  terrify 
us  into  an  adoption  of  this  new  form  of  government?  And  yet 
who  knows  the  dangers  that  this  new  system  may  produce? 
They  are  out  of  the  sight  of  the  common  people ;  they  cannot  fore 
see  latent  consequences.  I  dread  the  operation  of  it  on  the  mid 
dling  and  lower  classes  of  people :  it  is  for  them  I  fear  the  adoption 
of  this  system.  I  fear  I  tire  the  patience  of  the  committee,  but  I 
beg  to  be  indulged  with  a  few  more  observations.  When  I  thus 
profess  myself  an  advocate  for  the  liberty  of  the  people,  I  shall 
be  told,  I  am  a  designing  man,  that  I  am  to  be  a  great  man,  that  I 
am  to  be  a  demagogue;  and  many  similar  illiberal  insinuations 
will  be  thrown  out;  but,  sir,  conscious  rectitude  outweighs  these 
things  with  me.  I  see  great  jeopardy  in  this  new  government. 
I  see  none  from  our  present  one.  I  hope  some  gentleman  or 
other  will  bring  forth,  in  full  array,  those  dangers,  if  there  be 
any,  that  we  may  see  and  touch  them. 


DANGER    OF    MONARCHY 

[From  the  shorthand  report  of  the  Virginia  Convention  of  1788] 

This  constitution  is  said  to  have  beautiful  features;  but  when 
I  come  to  examine  these  features,  sir,  they  appear  to  me  horribly 
frightful:  among  other  deformities  it  has  an  awful  squinting;  it 
squints  toward  monarchy;  and  does  not  this  raise  indignation  in 
the  breast  of  every  true  American?  Your  president  may  easily 
become  king :  your  senate  is  so  imperfectly  constructed  that  your 


PATRICK  HENRY  341 

dearest  rights  may  be  sacrificed  by  what  may  be  a  small  minority ; 
and  a  very  small  minority  may  continue  forever  unchangeably 
this  government  although  horridly  defective:  where  are  your 
checks  in  this  government  ?  Your  strongholds  will  be  in  the  hands 
of  your  enemies ;  it  is  on  a  supposition  that  your  American  govern 
ors  shall  be  honest,  that  all  the  good  qualities  of  this  government 
are  founded:  but  its  defective,  and  imperfect  construction,  puts 
it  in  their  power  to  perpetrate  the  worst  of  mischiefs,  should  they 
be  bad  men:  and,  sir,  would  not  all  the  world,  from  the  eastern 
to  the  western  hemisphere,  blame  our  distracted  folly  in  resting 
our  rights  upon  the  contingency  of  our  rulers  being  good  or  bad  ? 
Show  me  that  age  and  country  where  the  rights  and  liberties  of  the 
people  were  placed  on  the  sole  chance  of  their  rulers  being  good 
men,  without  a  consequent  loss  of  liberty  ?  I  say  that  the  loss  of 
that  dearest  privilege  has  ever  followed  with  absolute  certainty, 
every  such  mad  attempt. 

If  your  American  chief,  be  a  man  of  ambition,  and  abilities, 
how  easy  it  is  for  him  to  render  himself  absolute  !  The  army  is  in 
his  hands,  and,  if  he  be  a  man  of  address,  it  will  be  attached  to 
him;  and  it  will  be  the  subject  of  meditation  with  him  to  seize 
the  first  auspicious  moment  to  accomplish  his  design;  and,  sir, 
will  the  American  spirit  solely  relieve  you  when  this  happens? 
I  would  rather  infinitely,  and  I  am  sure  most  of  this  convention  are 
of  the  same  opinion,  have  a  king,  lords,  and  commons,  than  a 
government,  so  replete  with  such  insupportable  evils.  If  we  make 
a  king,  we  may  prescribe  the  rules  by  which  he  shall  rule  his 
people,  and  interpose  such  checks  as  shall  prevent  him  from  in 
fringing  them:  but  the  president  in  the  field  at  the  head  of  his 
army  can  prescribe  the  terms  on  which  he  shall  reign  master,  so 
far  that  it  will  puzzle  any  American  ever  to  get  his  neck  from  under 
the  galling  yoke.  I  cannot  with  patience  think  of  this  idea.  If 
ever  he  violates  the  laws,  one  of  two  things  will  happen :  he  will 
come  at  the  head  of  his  army  to  carry  everything  before  him ;  or, 
he  will  give  bail,  or  do  what  Mr.  Chief  Justice  will  order  him.  If 
he  be  guilty,  will  not  the  recollection  of  his  crimes  teach  him  to 
make  one  bold  push  for  the  American  throne?  Will  not  the 
immense  difference  between  being  master  of  everything,  and  being 
ignominiously  tried  and  punished,  powerfully  excite  him  to  make 


342 


EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 


this  bold  push?  But,  sir,  where  is  the  existing  force  to  punish 
him?  Can  he  not  at  the  head  of  his  army  beat  down  every  op 
position?  Away  with  your  president,  we  shall  have  a  king:  the 
army  will  salute  him  monarch;  your  militia  will  leave  you  and 
assist  in  making  him  king,  and  fight  against  you,  and  what  have 
you  to  oppose  this  force?  What  will  then  become  of  you  and 
your  rights  ?  Will  not  absolute  despotism  ensue  ? 


THOMAS    PAINE 

[Thomas  Paine,  one  of  the  most  effective  of  Revolutionary  pamphleteers, 
was  a  native  of  England,  where  he  had  a  not  very  successful  career  as  stay- 
maker  and  officer  in  the  excise.  In  1774,  at  the  age  of  thirty-seven,  he  came 
to  Philadelphia,  bearing  letters  from  Franklin,  wrhom  he  had  met  in  Eng 
land.  Though  without  special  literary  training  or  experience,  he  became 
editor  of  a  magazine,  and  soon  developed  a  manner  of  expression  that, 
while  far  from  correct  or  elegant,  was  wonderfully  effective.  He  took  an 
active  part  in  the  discussion  of  public  affairs,  and  in  January,  1776,  pub 
lished  his  pamphlet  of  "Common  Sense,"  which  historians  have  generally 
credited  as  a  powerful  influence  in  bringing  about  the  Declaration  of  Inde 
pendence.  Paine  served  in  the  army  and  in  various  official  positions  through 
out  the  war,  and  at  intervals  from  1776  to  1783  he  wrote  the  "Crisis,"  a  se 
ries  of  papers  which  comment  on  current  events  and  exhort  the  people  to 
patriotic  exertions.  At  the  close  of  the  war  his  services  to  the  country  were 
enthusiastically  recognized  by  Congress,  and  by  various  state  legislatures. 
He  then  went  to  Europe,  where  his  "Rights  of  Man,"  a  reply  to  Burke's 
"Reflections  on  the  French  Revolution,"  caused  him  to  be  outlawed  from 
England.  In  France  he  was  made  a  "citizen"  and  was  chosen  a  member 
of  the  convention.  Here  he  made  himself  unpopular  by  his  opposition  to 
the  execution  of  the  king,  and  was  for  a  time  imprisoned.  On  his  release 
he  attacked  Washington  for  failure  to  intervene  in  his  behalf,  and  this,  together 
with  his  free  discussion  of  religion  in  "The  Age  of  Reason,"  made  him  one 
of  the  most  unpopular  men  in  America.  He  died  in  poverty  in  New  York 
in  1809,  and  his  sad  end  was  many  times  "improved"  as  showing  the  fate  of 
an  infidel. 

Paine  wrote  many  other  works  in  America  and  Europe,  but  the  four 
mentioned  are  of  chief  interest.  On  the  whole  "Common  Sense"  and 
the  "Crisis"  are  more  representative  and  more  creditable  than  his  later 
writings.  No  other  author  of  his  time  is  better  for  the  study  of  the  qualities 
that  give  a  pamphleteer  immediate  success,  and  such  a  study  is  well  worth 
while  because  Paine,  if  not  the  founder,  was  the  most  conspicuous  early 
representative  of  a  school  of  writing  that  was  long  popular  in  America.  He 
employed  a  somewhat  heightened  rhetorical  manner,  as  in  the  opening  lines 
of  the  first  "Crisis,"  and  he  discussed  in  simple  and  apparently  frank  manner 
matter-of-fact  details,  as  in  the  references  to  Washington's  retreat  in  the 
same  paper.  He  showed  what  appeared  to  his  partisans  as  righteous  indig 
nation,  and  to  others  as  prejudice  and  outbreaks  of  temper,  as  in  his  refer 
ences  to  the  king  and  the  Tories.  It  was  this  lack  of  respectful  dignity  that 
made  Paine  so  violently  disliked  by  his  political  opponents,  and  that  gave 

343 


344  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

him  his  undeserved  notoriety  as  a  teacher  of  irreligion.  It  is  not  really  the 
radicalism  of  the  views  expressed  in  "The  Age  of  Reason"  but  an  irreverent 
way  of  dealing  with  what  most  persons  feel  to  be  sacred  things,  that  gave 
the  book  its  bad  name. 

The  selections  are  from  the  standard  edition  of  Paine's  writings,  edited 
by  Moncure  D.  Conway.] 

REASONS   FOR  INDEPENDENCE 

[From  "Common  Sense"] 

I  challenge  the  warmest  advocate  for  reconciliation  to  show  a 
single  advantage  that  this  continent  can  reap  by  being  connected 
with  Great  Britain.  I  repeat  the  challenge;  not  a  single  ad 
vantage  is  derived.  Our  corn  will  fetch  its  price  in  any  market  in 
Europe,  and  our  imported  goods  must  be  paid  for  buy  them  where 
we  will. 

But  the  injuries  and  disadvantages  which  we  sustain  by  that 
connection,  are  without  number;  and  our  duty  to  mankind  at 
large,  as  well  as  to  ourselves,  instruct  us  to  renounce  the  alliance : 
because,  any  submission  to,  or  dependance  on,  Great  Britain, 
tends  directly  to  involve  this  Continent  in  European  wars  and 
quarrels,  and  set  us  at  variance  with  nations  who  would  otherwise 
seek  our  friendship,  and  against  whom  we  have  neither  anger  nor 
complaint.  As  Europe  is  our  market  for  trade,  we  ought  to  form 
no  partial  connection  with  any  part  of  it.  It  is  the  true  interest 
of  America  to  steer  clear  of  European  contentions,  which  she  never 
can  do,  while,  by  her  dependence  on  Britain,  she  is  made  the 
makeweight  in  the  scale  of  British  politics. 

Europe  is  too  thickly  planted  with  kingdoms  to  be  long  at  peace, 
and  whenever  a  war  breaks  out  between  England  and  any  foreign 
power,  the  trade  of  America  goes  to  ruin,  because  of  her  connection 
with  Britain.  The  next  war  may  not  turn  out  like  the  last,  and 
should  it  not,  the  advocates  for  reconciliation  now  will  be  wishing 
for  separation  then,  because  neutrality  in  that  case  would  be  a 
safer  convoy  than  a  man  of  war.  Every  thing  that  is  right  or 
reasonable  pleads  for  separation.  The  blood  of  the  slain,  the 
weeping  voice  of  nature  cries,  'Tis  TIME  TO  PART.  Even  the  dis 
tance  at  which  the  Almighty  hath  placed  England  and  America 
is  a  strong  and  natural  proof  that  the  authority  of  the  one  over  the 


THOMAS  PAINE  345 

other,  was  never  the  design  of  Heaven.  The  time  likewise  at 
which  the  Continent  was  discovered,  adds  weight  to  the  argument, 
and  the  manner  in  which  it  was  peopled,  encreases  the  force  of 
it.  The  Reformation  was  preceded  by  the  discovery  of  America : 
As  if  the  Almighty  graciously  meant  to  open  a  sanctuary  to  the  per 
secuted  in  future  years,  when  home  should  afford  neither  friend 
ship  nor  safety. 

The  authority  of  Great  Britain  over  this  Continent,  is  a  form  of 
government,  which  sooner  or  later  must  have  an  end:  And  a 
serious  mind  can  draw  no  true  pleasure  by  looking  forward,  under 
the  painful  and  positive  conviction  that  what  he  calls  "the  present 
constitution"  is  merely  temporary.  As  parents,  we  can  have  no 
joy,  knowing  that  this  government  is  not  sufficiently  lasting  to 
ensure  any  thing  which  we  may  bequeath  to  posterity :  And  by  a 
plain  method  of  argument,  as  we  are  running  the  next  genera 
tion  into  debt,  we  ought  to  do  the  work  of  it,  otherwise  we  use 
them  meanly  and  pitifully.  In  order  to  discover  the  line  of  our 
duty  rightly,  we  should  take  our  children  in  our  hand,  and  fix  our 
station  a  few  years  farther  into  life ;  that  eminence  will  present  a 
prospect  which  a  few  present  fears  and  prejudices  conceal  from 
our  sight. 

Though  I  would  carefully  avoid  giving  unnecessary  offence,  yet 
I  am  inclined  to  believe,  that  all  those  who  espouse  the  doctrine 
of  reconciliation,  may  be  included  within  the  following  descriptions. 

Interested  men,  who  are  not  to  be  trusted,  weak  men  who  cannot 
see,  prejudiced  men  who  will  not  see,  and  a  certain  set  of  moder- 
.ate  men  who  think  better  of  the  European  world  than  it  deserves; 
and  this  last  class,  by  an  ill-judged  deliberation,  will  be  the  cause 
of  more  calamities  to  this  Continent  than  all  the  other  three. 

It  is  the  good  fortune  of  many  to  live  distant  from  the  scene 
of  present  sorrow;  the  evil  is  not  sufficiently  brought  to  their 
doors  to  make  them  feel  the  precariousness  with  which  all  American 
property  is  possessed.  But  let  our  imaginations  transport  us  a 
few  moments  to  Boston;  that  seat  of  wretchedness  will  teach  us 
wisdom,  and  instruct  us  forever  to  renounce  a  power  in  whom  we 
can  have  no  trust.  The  inhabitants  of  that  unfortunate  city  who 
but  a  few  months  ago  were  in  ease  and  affluence,  have  now  no 
other  alternative  than  to  stay  and  starve,  or  turn  out  to  beg. 


346  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

Endangered  by  the  fire  of  their  friends  if  they  continue  within  the 
city,  and  plundered  by  the  soldiery  if  they  leave  it,  in  their  pres 
ent  situation  they  are  prisoners  without  the  hope  of  redemption, 
and  in  a  general  attack  for  their  relief  they  would  be  exposed  to 
the  fury  of  both  armies. 

Men  of  passive  tempers  look  somewhat  lightly  over  the  offences 
of  Great  Britain,  and,  still  hoping  for  the  best,  are  apt  to  call 
out,  Come,  come,  we  shall  be  friends  again  for  all  this.  But  ex 
amine  the  passions  and  feelings  of  mankind:  bring  the  doctrine 
of  reconciliation  to  the  touchstone  of  nature,  and  then  tell  me 
whether  you  can  hereafter  love,  honour,  and  faithfully  serve  the 
power  that  hath  carried  fire  and  sword  into  your  land?  If  you 
cannot  do  all  these,  then  are  you  only  deceiving  yourselves,  and 
by  your  delay  bringing  ruin  upon  posterity.  Your  future  con 
nection  with  Britain,  whom  you  can  neither  love  nor  honour,  will 
be  forced  and  unnatural,  and  being  formed  only  on  the  plan  of 
present  convenience,  will  in  a  little  time  fall  into  a  relapse  more 
wretched  than  the  first.  But  if  you  say,  you  can  still  pass  the 
violations  over,  then  I  ask,  hath  your  house  been  burnt?  Hath 
your  property  been  destroyed  before  your  face?  Are  your  wife 
and  children  destitute  of  a  bed  to  lie  on,  or  bread  to  live  on  ?  Have 
you  lost  a  parent  or  a  child  by  their  hands,  and  yourself  the  ruined 
and  wretched  survivor?  If  you  have  not,  then  are  you  not  a 
judge  of  those  who  have.  But  if  you  have,  and  can  still  shake 
hands  with  the  murderers,  then  are  you  unworthy  the  name  of 
husband,  father,  friend,  or  lover,  and  whatever  may  be  your  rank 
or  title  in  life,  you  have  the  heart  of  a  coward,  and  the  spirit  of  a 
sycophant. 

This  is  not  inflaming  or  exaggerating  matters,  but  trying  them 
by  those  feelings  and  affections  which  nature  justifies,  and  without 
which  we  should  be  incapable  of  discharging  the  social  duties  of 
life,  or  enjoying  the  felicities  of  it.  I  mean  not  to  exhibit  horror 
for  the  purpose  of  provoking  revenge,  but  to  awaken  us  from  fatal 
and  unmanly  slumbers,  that  we  may  pursue  determinately  some 
fixed  object.  'Tis  not  in  the  power  of  Britain  or  of  Europe  to 
conquer  America,  if  she  doth  not  conquer  herself  by  delay  and 
timidity.  The  present  winter  is  worth  an  age  if  rightly  employed, 
but  if  lost  or  neglected  the  whole  Continent  will  partake  of  the 


THOMAS  PAINE  347 

misfortune;  and  there  is  no  punishment  which  that  man  doth 
not  deserve,  be  he  who,  or  what,  or  where  he  will,  that  may  be  the 
means  of  sacrificing  a  season  so  precious  and  useful. 

'Tis  repugnant  to  reason,  to  the  universal  order  of  things,  to  all 
examples  from  former  ages,  to  suppose  that  this  Continent  can  long 
remain  subject  to  any  external  power.  The  most  sanguine  in 
Britain  doth  not  think  so.  The  utmost  stretch  of  human  wisdom 
cannot,  at  this  time,  compass  a  plan,  short  of  separation,  which 
can  promise  the  Continent  even  a  year's  security.  Reconciliation 
is  now  a  fallacious  dream.  Nature  hath  deserted  the  connection, 
and  art  cannot  supply  her  place.  For,  as  Milton  wisely  expresses, 
"never  can  true  reconcilement  grow  where  wounds  of  deadly  hate 
have  pierced  so  deep." 

Every  quiet  method  for  peace  hath  been  ineffectual.  Our 
prayers  have  been  rejected  with  disdain ;  and  hath  tended  to  con 
vince  us  that  nothing  flatters  vanity  or  confirms  obstinacy  in  Kings 
more  than  repeated  petitioning  —  and  nothing  hath  contributed 
more  than  that  very  measure  to  make  the  Kings  of  Europe  absolute. 
Witness  Denmark  and  Sweden.  Wherefore,  since  nothing  but 
blows  will  do,  for  God's  sake  let  us  come  to  a  final  separation,  and 
not  leave  the  next  generation  to  be  cutting  throats  under  the  vio 
lated  unmeaning  names  of  parent  and  child. 

"THE   TIMES   THAT   TRY   MEN'S    SOULS" 

[From  "The  Crisis"] 

These  are  the  times  that  try  men's  souls.  The  summer  soldier 
and  the  sunshine  patriot  will,  in  this  crisis,  shrink  from  the  sendee 
of  their  country;  but  he  that  stands  it  now,  deserves  the  love  and 
thanks  of  man  and  woman.  Tyranny,  like  hell,  is  not  easily  con 
quered;  yet  we  have  this  consolation  with  us,  that  the  harder  the 
conflict,  the  more  glorious  the  triumph.  What  we  obtain  too 
cheap,  we  esteem  too  lightly :  it  is  dearness  only  that  gives  every 
thing  its  value.  Heaven  knows  how  to  put  a  proper  price  upon 
its  goods ;  and  it  would  be  strange  indeed  if  so  celestial  an  article 
as  FREEDOM  should  not  be  highly  rated.  Britain,  with  an  army  to 
enforce  her  tyranny,  has  declared  that  she  has  a  right  (not  only  to 
TAX)  but  "to  BIND  us  in  ALL  CASES  WHATSOEVER,"  andif  being  bound 


348  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

in  that  manner,  is  not  slavery,  then  there  is  not  such  a  thing  as 
slavery  upon  earth.  Even  the  expression  is  impious;  for  so  un 
limited  a  power  can  belong  only  to  God. 

Whether  the  independence  of  the  continent  was  declared  too 
soon,  or  delayed  too  long,  I  will  not  now  enter  into  as  an  argument; 
my  own  simple  opinion  is,  that  had  it  been  eight  months  earlier,  it 
would  have  been  much  better.  We  did  not  make  a  proper  use  of 
last  winter,  neither  could  we,  while  we  were  in  a  dependent  state. 
However,  the  fault,  if  it  were  one,  was  all  our  own ; l  we  have  none 
to  blame  but  ourselves.  But  no  great  deal  is  lost  yet.  All  that 
Howe  has  been  doing  for  this  month  past,  is  rather  a  ravage  than 
a  conquest,  which  the  spirit  of  the  Jerseys,  a  year  ago,  would  have 
quickly  repulsed,  and  which  time  and  a  little  resolution  will  soon 
recover. 

I  have  as  little  superstition  in  me  as  any  man  living,  but  my  secret 
opinion  has  ever  been,  and  still  is,  that  God  Almighty  will  not  give 
up  a  people  to  military  destruction,  or  leave  them  unsupportedly 
to  perish,  who  have  so  earnestly  and  so  repeatedly  sought  to  avoid 
the  calamities  of  war,  by  every  decent  method  which  wisdom 
could  invent.  Neither  have  I  so  much  of  the  infidel  in  me,  as  to 
suppose  that  He  has  relinquished  the  government  of  the  world, 
and  given  us  up  to  the  care  of  devils ;  and  as  I  do  not,  I  cannot 
see  on  what  grounds  the  king  of  Britain  can  look  up  to  heaven  for 
help  against  us :  a  common  murderer,  a  highwayman,  or  a  house 
breaker,  has  as  good  a  pretence  as  he. 

Tis  surprising  to  see  how  rapidly  a  panic  will. sometimes  run 
through  a  country.  All  nations  and  ages  have  been  subject  to 
them :  Britain  has  trembled  like  an  ague  at  the  report  of  a  French 
fleet  of  flat  bottomed  boats ;  and  in  the  fourteenth  century  the  whole 
English  army,  after  ravaging  the  kingdom  of  France,  was  driven 
back  like  men  petrified  with  fear ;  and  this  brave  exploit  was  per 
formed  by  a  few  broken  forces  collected  and  headed  by  a  woman, 
Joan  of  Arc.  Would  that  heaven  might  inspire  some  Jersey  maid 
to  spirit  up  her  countrymen,  and  save  her  fair  fellow  sufferers 

1The  present  winter  is  worth  an  age,  if  rightly  employed;  but,  if  lost  or 
neglected,  the  whole  continent  will  partake  of  the  evil;  and  there  is  no  punish 
ment  that  man  does  not  deserve,  be  he  who,  or  what,  or  where  he  will,  that  may 
be  the  means  of  sacrificing  a  season  so  precious  and  useful.  [Author's  note  —  a 
citation  from  his  "Common  Sense."] 


THOMAS  PAINE  349 

from  ravage  and  ravishment!  Yet  panics,  in  some  cases,  have 
their  uses;  they  produce  as  much  good  as  hurt.  Their  duration 
is  always  short ;  the  mind  soon  grows  through  them,  and  acquires 
a  firmer  habit  than  before.  But  their  peculiar  advantage  is,  that 
they  are  the  touchstones  of  sincerity  and  hypocrisy,  and  bring 
things  and  men  to  light,  which  might  otherwise  have  lain  forever 
undiscovered.  In  fact,  they  have  the  same  effect  on  secret  traitors, 
which  an  imaginary  apparition  would  have  upon  a  private  murderer. 
They  sift  out  the  hidden  thoughts  of  man,  and  hold  them  up  in 
public  to  the  wrorld.  Many  a  disguised  tory  has  lately  shown  his 
head,  that  shall  penitentially  solemnize  with  curses  the  day  on 
which  Howe  arrived  upon  the  Delaware. 

As  I  was  with  the  troops  at  Fort  Lee,  and  marched  with  them 
to  the  edge  of  Pennsylvania,  I  am  well  acquainted  with  many 
circumstances,  which  those  who  live  at  a  distance  know  but  little 
or  nothing  of.  Our  situation  there  was  exceedingly  cramped, 
the  place  being  a  narrow  neck  of  land  between  the  North  River 
and  the  Hackensack.  Our  force  was  inconsiderable,  being  not 
one  fourth  so  great  as  Howe  could  bring  against  us.  We  had  no 
army  at  hand  to  have  relieved  the  garrison,  had  we  shut  our 
selves  up  and  stood  on  our  defence.  Our  ammunition,  light 
artillery,  and  the  best  part  of  our  stores,  had  been  removed,  on 
the  apprehension  that  Howe  would  endeavor  to  penetrate  the 
Jerseys,  in  which  case  Fort  Lee  could  be  of  no  use  to  us;  for  it 
must  occur  to  every  thinking  man,  whether  in  the  army  or  not, 
that  these  kind  of  field  forts  are  only  for  temporary  purposes, 
and  last  in  use  no  longer  than  the  enemy  directs  his  force  against 
the  particular  object,  which  such  forts  are  raised  to  defend. 
Such  was  our  situation  and  condition  at  fort  Lee  on  the  morning 
of  the  2oth  of  November,  when  an  officer  arrived  with  informa 
tion  that  the  enemy  with  200  boats  had  landed  about  seven  miles 
above:  Major  General  Green,  who  commanded  the  garrison, 
immediately  ordered  them  under  arms,  and  sent  express  to  General 
Washington  at  the  town  of  Hackensack,  distant  by  the  way  of  the 
ferry  =  six  miles.  Our  first  object  was  to  secure  the  bridge  over 
the  Hackensack,  which  laid  up  the  river  between  the  enemy 
and  us,  about  six  miles  from  us,  and  three  from  them.  General 
Washington  arrived  in  about  three  quarters  of  an  hour,  and 


350  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

marched  at  the  head  of  the  troops  towards  the  bridge,  which 
place  I  expected  we  should  have  a  brush  for;  however,  they  did 
not  choose  to  dispute  it  with  us,  and  the  greatest  part  of  our 
troops  went  over  the  bridge,  the  rest  over  the  ferry,  except  some 
which  passed  at  a  mill  on  a  small  creek,  between  the  bridge  and 
the  ferry,  and  made  their  way  through  some  marshy  grounds  up 
to  the  town  of  Hackensack,  and  there  passed  the  river.  We 
brought  off  as  much  baggage  as  the  wagons  could  contain,  the 
rest  was  lost.  The  simple  object  was  to  bring  off  the  garrison, 
and  march  them  on  till  they  could  be  strengthened  by  the  Jersey 
or  Pennsylvania  militia,  so  as  to  be  enabled  to  make  a  stand. 
We  staid  four  days  at  Newark,  collected  our  out-posts  with  some 
of  the  Jersey  militia,  and  marched  out  twice  to  meet  the  enemy, 
on  being  informed  that  they  were  advancing,  though  our  num 
bers  were  greatly  inferior  to  theirs.  Howe,  in  my  little  opinion, 
committed  a  great  error  in  generalship  in  not  throwing  a  body 
of  forces  off  from  Staten  Island  through  Amboy,  by  which  means 
he  might  have  seized  all  our  stores  at  Brunswick,  and  intercepted 
our  march  into  Pennsylvania ;  but  if  we  believe  the  power  of  hell 
to  be  limited,  we  must  likewise  believe  that  their  agents  are  under 
some  providential  controul. 

I  shall  not  now  attempt  to  give  all  the  particulars  of  our  retreat 
to  the  Delaware ;  suffice  it  for  the  present  to  say,  that  both  officers 
and  men,  though  greatly  harrassed  and  fatigued,  frequently  with 
out  rest,  covering,  or  provision,  the  inevitable  consequences  of  a 
long  retreat,  bore  it  with  a  manly  and  martial  spirit.  All  their 
wishes  centered  in  one,  which  was,  that  the  country  would  turn 
out  and  help  them  to  drive  the  enemy  back.  Voltaire  has  re 
marked  that  King  William  never  appeared  to  full  advantage  but 
in  difficulties  and  in  action;  the  same  remark  may  be  made  on 
General  Washington,  for  the  character  fits  him.  There  is  a 
natural  firmness  in  some  minds  which  cannot  be  unlocked  by 
trifles,  but  which,  when  unlocked,  discovers  a  cabinet  of  fortitude ; 
and  I  reckon  it  among  those  kind  of  public  blessings,  which  we 
do  not  immediately  see,  that  God  hath  blessed  him  with  unin 
terrupted  health,  and  given  him  a  mind  that  can  even  flourish 
upon  care. 

I  shall  conclude  this  paper  with  some  miscellaneous  remarks 


THOMAS  PAINE  351 

on  the  state  of  our  affairs;  and  shall  begin  with  asking  the  fol 
lowing  question,  Why  is  it  that  the  enemy  have  left  the  New- 
England  provinces,  and  made  these  middle  ones  the  seat  of  war? 
The  answer  is  easy:  New-England  is  not  infested  with  tories, 
and  we  are.  I  have  been  tender  in  raising  the  cry  against  these 
men,  and  used  numberless  arguments  to  show  them  their  dan 
ger,  but  it  will  not  do  to  sacrifice  a  world  either  to  their  folly  or 
their  baseness.  The  period  is  now  arrived,  in  which  either  they 
or  we  must  change  our  sentiments,  or  one  or  both  must  fall. 
And  what  is  a  tory?  Good  God!  what  is  he?  I  should  not  be 
afraid  to  go  with  a  hundred  whigs  against  a  thousand  tories, 
were  they  to  attempt  to  get  into  arms.  Every  tory  is  a  coward; 
for  servile,  slavish,  self-interested  fear  is  the  foundation  of  toryism ; 
and  a  man  under  such  influence,  though  he  may  be  cruel,  never 
can  be  brave. 

But,  before  the  line  of  irrecoverable  separation  be  drawn 
between  us,  let  us  reason  the  matter  together:  Your  conduct  is 
an  invitation  to  the  enemy,  yet  not  one  in  a  thousand  of  you  has 
heart  enough  to  join  him.  Howe  is  as  much  deceived  by  you 
as  the  American  cause  is  injured  by  you.  He  expects  you  will 
all  take  up  arms,  and  flock  to  his  standard,  with  muskets  on  your 
shoulders.  Your  opinions  are  of  no  use  to  him,  unless  you  sup 
port  him  personally,  for  'tis  soldiers,  and  not  tories,  that  he  wants. 

I  once  felt  all  that  kind  of  anger,  which  a  man  ought  to  feel, 
against  the  mean  principles  that  are  held  by  the  tories:  a  noted 
one,  who  kept  a  tavern  at  Amboy,  was  standing  at  his  door, 
with  as  pretty  a  child  in  his  hand,  about  eight  or  nine  years  old, 
as  ever  I  saw,  and  after  speaking  his  mind  as  freely  as  he  thought 
was  prudent,  finished  with  this  unfatherly  expression,  "Well! 
give  me  peace  in  my  day."  Not  a  man  lives  on  the  continent 
but  fully  believes  that  a  separation  must  some  time  or  other 
finally  take  place,  and  a  generous  parent  should  have  said,  "  If 
there  must  be  trouble,  let  it  be  in  my  day,  that  my  child  may  have 
peace;"  and  this  single  reflection,  well  applied,  is  sufficient  to 
awaken  every  man  to  duty.  Not  a  place  upon  earth  might  be 
so  happy  as  America.  Her  situation  is  remote  from  all  the 
wrangling  world,  and  she  has  nothing  to  do  but  to  trade  with 
them.  A  man  can  distinguish  himself  between  temper  and 


352  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

principle,  and  I  am  as  confident,  as  I  am  that  God  governs  the 
world,  that  America  will  never  be  happy  till  she  gets  clear  of 
foreign  dominion.  Wars,  without  ceasing,  will  break  out  till 
that  period  arrives,  and  the  continent  must  in  the  end  be  con 
queror;  for  though  the  flame  of  liberty  may  sometimes  cease  to 
shine,  the  coal  can  never  expire. 


THOMAS   JEFFERSON 


[The  main  facts  in  the  life  of  Thomas  Jefferson  are  too  well  known  to 
need  more  than  the  briefest  restatement  here.  He  was  born  in  Virginia 
in  1743,  received  his  education  at  William  and  Mary  College,  and  studied 
law.  He  inherited  a  considerable  estate,  which  was  increased  by  his  mar 
riage,  and  throughout  life  he  took  great  interest  in  agriculture  and  horti 
culture,  and  conducted  many  experiments  in  both  lines  of  industry.  In 
1769  be  became  a  member  of  the  Virginia  House  of  Burgesses,  and  from  this 
time  until  the  close  of  his  presidential  term  he  was  active  in  public  life. 
Although  a  relatively  young  member  of  the  Congress,  he  was  given  a 
place  on  the  committee  to  prepare  a  Declaration  of  Independence,  and  was 
chosen  by  the  committee  to  draft  the  document.  Among  the  more  important 
offices  that  he  held  were  governor  of  Virginia,  member  of  the  Peace  Commis 
sion,  Secretary  of  State,  Vice-President,  and  from  1801  to  1809  President  of 
the  United  States.  From  1809  until  his  death  in  1826  he  lived  in  retirement 
on  his  estate  at  Monticello. 

Jefferson's  writings,  which  in  the  latest  edition  fill  ten  volumes,  are  largely 
state  papers  and  letters.  The  "Notes  on  Virginia,"  his  most  ambitious 
single  work,  was  written  in  response  to  inquiries  sent  out  by  the  French 
government  in  1781,  privately  printed  by  the  author  in  Paris  in  1784,  and 
published  in  London  in  1787.  Since  that  time  it  has  been,  according  to 
Jefferson's  latest  editor,  "perhaps  the  most  frequently  reprinted  book  ever 
written  in  the  United  States  south  of  Mason  and  Dixon's  line."  It  illus 
trates  Jefferson's  wide  interest  in  all  scientific  and  economic  matters,  his 
genius  for  acquiring  and  managing  details,  and  his  fondness  for  theorizing. 
The  "Autobiography"  and  the  "Anas,"  both  written  late  in  life,  give  much 
information  regarding  the  public  affairs  with  which  Jefferson  was  so  long 
concerned.  Many  of  his  letters  are  interesting,  and  touch  a  wide  variety  of 
topics. 

Jefferson's  chief  characteristics  as  a  writer  can  be  seen  in  the  Declaration 
of  Independence,  which  it  is  to  be  hoped  need  not  be  included  in  a  collec 
tion  like  this  volume.  He  had  a  faculty  of  making  general  statements  in 
sounding  phrases,  and  he  could  marshal  details  with  telling  effect.  The 
opening  and  closing  passages  of  the  Declaration,  and  the  catalogue  of  griev 
ances,  respectively  illustrate  these  methods.  In  judging  the  Declaration  it 
must  in  justice  be  borne  in  mind  that  Jefferson  was  asked  to  prepare,  not 
an  exposition  of  his  personal  views,  but  a  document  that  would  be  agreed  to 
by  all  the  colonies,  and  that  would  be  accepted  by  the  general  public  as  a 
defence  of  the  colonial  action.  Whatever  the  defects  of  the  Declaration  as 

2  A  353 


354  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

a  political  and  literary  classic,  it  can  hardly  be  denied  that  the  author  suc 
ceeded  in  accomplishing  what  he  set  out  to  do.  The  mass  of  his  writings, 
while  many  of  them  show  one  or  the  other  of  the  qualities  already  referred 
to,  are  likely  to  be  somewhat  disappointing  to  the  reader  of  to-day. 

All  the  selections  here  given  are  from  the  latest  and  most  complete  col 
lection  of  Jefferson's  writings,  edited  by  Paul  Leicester  Ford.  The  selec 
tion  from  the  "Notes  on  Virginia"  follows  the  text  of  the  first  edition,  of 
1784.  The  "Inaugural  Address"  follows  the  manuscript  draft  in  Jefferson's 
autograph,  which  was  possibly  intended  for  reference  during  the  delivery 
of  the  address,  and  which  abounds  in  contractions  of  words,  and  oddities 
of  paragraphing,  —  even  parts  of  sentences  being  written  as  separate  para 
graphs.  These  peculiarities  have  not  been  retained  in  printing  the  selection.] 

THE  FRAMING   OF  THE  DECLARATION 

[From  the  "Autobiography"] 

It  appearing  in  the  course  of  these  debates  1  that  the  colonies 
of  N.  York,  New  Jersey,  Pennsylvania,  Delaware,  Maryland, 
and  South  Carolina  were  not  yet  matured  for  falling  from  the 
parent  stem,  but  that  they  were  fast  advancing  to  that  state,  it 
was  thought  most  prudent  to  wait  a  while  for  them,  and  to  post 
pone  the  final  decision  to  July  i.  but  that  this  might  occasion  as 
little  delay  as  possible  a  committee  was  appointed  to  prepare  a 
declaration  of  independence.  The  commee  were  J.  Adams,  Dr. 
Franklin,  Roger  Sherman,  Robert  R.  Livingston  &  myself. 
Committees  were  also  appointed  at  the  same  time  to  prepare  a 
plan  of  confederation  for  the  colonies,  and  to  state  the  terms 
proper  to  be  proposed  for  foreign  alliance.  The  committee  for 
drawing  the  declaration  of  Independence  desired  me  to  do  it. 
It  was  accordingly  done,  and  being  approved  by  them,  I  reported 
it  to  the  house  on  Friday  the  28th  of  June  when  it  was  read  and 
ordered  to  lie  on  the  table.  On  Monday,  the  ist  of  July  the 
house  resolved  itself  into  a  commee  of  the  whole  &  resumed  the 
consideration  of  the  original  motion  made  by  the  delegates  of 
Virginia,  which  being  again  debated  through  the  day,  was  carried 
in  the  affirmative  by  the  votes  of  N.  Hampshire,  Connecticut, 
Massachusetts,  Rhode  Island,  N.  Jersey,  Maryland,  Virginia, 
N.  Carolina,  &  Georgia.  S.  Carolina  and  Pennsylvania  voted 

[l  On  a  motion  of  the  Virginia  delegates  declaring  the  colonies  independent  of 
Great  Britain.] 


THOMAS  JEFFERSON  355 

against  it.  Delaware  having  but  two  members  present,  they 
were  divided.  The  delegates  for  New  York  declared  they  were 
for  it  themselves  &  were  assured  their  constituents  were  for  it, 
but  that  their  instructions  having  been  drawn  near  a  twelvemonth 
before,  when  reconciliation  was  still  the  general  object,  they  were 
enjoined  by  them  to  do  nothing  which  should  impede  that  object. 
They  therefore  thought  themselves  not  justifiable  in  voting  on 
either  side,  and  asked  leave  to  withdraw  from  the  question,  which 
was  given  them.  The  commee  rose  &  reported  their  resolution 
to  the  house.  Mr.  Edward  Rutledge  of  S.  Carolina  then  re 
quested  the  determination  might  be  put  off  to  the  next  day,  as 
he  believed  his  colleagues,  tho'  they  disapproved  of  the  resolu 
tion,  would  then  join  in  it  for  the  sake  of  unanimity.  The  ulti 
mate  question  whether  the  house  would  agree  to  the  resolution  of 
the  committee  was  accordingly  postponed  to  the  next  day,  when 
it  was  again  moved  and  S.  Carolina  concurred  in  voting  for  it. 
In  the  meantime  a  third  member  had  come  post  from  the  Dela 
ware  counties  and  turned  the  vote  of  that  colony  in  favour  of  the 
resolution.  Members  of  a  different  sentiment  attending  that 
morning  from  Pennsylvania  also,  their  vote  was  changed,  so  that 
the  whole  12  colonies  who  were  authorized  to  vote  at  all,  gave 
their  voices  for  it;  and  within  a  few  days,  the  convention  of 
N.  York  approved  of  it  and  thus  supplied  the  void  occasioned 
by  'the  withdrawing  of  her  delegates  from  the  vote. 

Congress  proceeded  the  same  day  to  consider  the  declaration 
of  Independance  which  had  been  reported  &  lain  on  the  table 
the  Friday  preceding,  and  on  Monday  referred  to  a  commee  of 
the  whole.  The  pusillanimous  idea  that  we  had  friends  in  Eng 
land  worth  keeping  terms  with,  still  haunted  the  minds  of  many. 
For  this  reason  those  passages  which  conveyed  censures  on  the 
people  of  England  were  struck  out,  lest  they  should  give  them 
offence.  The  clause  too,  reprobating  the  enslaving  the  inhabit 
ants  of  Africa,  was  struck  out  in  complaisance  to  South  Carolina 
and  Georgia,  who  had  never  attempted  to  restrain  the  importa 
tion  of  slaves,  and  who  on  the  contrary  still  wished  to  continue  it. 
Our  northern  brethren  also  I  believe  felt  a  little  tender  under 
those  censures;  for  tho'  their  people  have  very  few  slaves  them 
selves  yet  they  had  been  pretty  considerable  carriers  of  them  to 


356  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

others.  The  debates  having  taken  up  the  greater  parts  of  the 
2d  3d  &  4th  days  of  July  were,  in  the  evening  of  the  last,  closed 
the  declaration  was  reported  by  the  commee,  agreed  to  by  the 
house  and  signed  by  every  member  present  except  Mr.  Dickinson. 

THE  NATURAL  BRIDGE 

[From  the  "Notes  on  Virginia"] 

The  Natural  bridge,  the  most  sublime  of  Nature's  works,  though 
not  comprehended  under  the  present  head,  must  not  be  preter- 
mitted.  It  is  on  the  ascent  of  a  hill,  which  seems  to  have  been 
cloven  through  its  length  by  some  great  convulsion.  The  fissure, 
just  at  the  bridge,  is,  by  some  admeasurements,  270  feet  deep, 
by  others  only  205.  It  is  about  45  feet  wide  at  the  bottom  and 
90  feet  at  the  top;  this  of  course  determines  the  length  of  the 
bridge  and  its  height  from  the  water.  Its  breadth  in  the  middle 
is  about  60  feet,  but  more  at  the  ends,  and  the  thickness  of  the 
mass  at  the  summit  of  the  arch,  about  40  feet.  A  part  of  this 
thickness  is  constituted  by  a  coat  of  earth,  which  gives  growth 
to  many  large  trees.  The  residue,  with  the  hill  on  both  sides, 
is  one  solid  rock  of  limestone.  The  arch  approaches  the  Semi- 
elliptical  form;  but  the  larger  axis  of  the  ellipsis,  which  would 
be  the  cord  of  the  arch,  is  many  times  longer  than  the  transverse. 
Though  the  sides  of  this  bridge  are  provided  in  some  parts  with 
a  parapet  of  fixed  rocks,  yet  few  men  have  resolution  to  walk  to 
them,  and  look  over  into  the  abyss.  You  involuntarily  fall  on 
your  hands  and  feet,  creep  to  the  parapet,  and  peep  over  it. 
Looking  down  from  this  height  about  a  minute,  gave  me  a  violent 
head  ach.  If  the  view  from  the  top  be  painful  and  intolerable, 
that  from  below  is  delightful  in  an  equal  extreme.  It  is  impossi 
ble  for  the  emotions  arising  from  the  sublime  to  be  felt  beyond 
what  they  are  here;  so  beautiful  an  arch,  so  elevated,  so  light, 
and  springing  as  it  were  up  to  heaven,  the  rapture  of  the  spectator 
is  really  indescribable !  The  fissure  continuing  narrow,  deep, 
and  streight  for  a  considerable  distance  above  and  below  the 
bridge,  opens  a  short  but  very  pleasing  view  of  the  North  moun 
tain  on  one  side,  and  the  Blue  ridge  on  the  other,  at  the  distance 
each  of  them  of  about  five  miles.  This  bridge  is  in  the  county 


THOMAS  JEFFERSON  357 

of  Rockbridge,  to  which  it  has  given  name,  and  affords  a  public 
and  commodious  passage  over  a  valley  which  cannot  be  crossed 
elsewhere  for  a  considerable  distance.  The  stream  passing  under 
it  is  called  Cedar  Creek.  It  is  a  water  of  James  river,  and  suffi 
cient  in  the  driest  seasons  to  turn  a  grist  mill,  though  its  fountain 
is  not  more  than  two  miles  above. 

FIRST  INAUGURAL  ADDRESS 

FRIENDS  AND  FELLOW  CITIZENS 

Called  upon  to  undertake  the  duties  of  the  first  Executive 
office  of  our  country,  I  avail  myself  of  the  presence  of  that  portion 
of  my  fellow  citizens  which  is  here  assembled  to  express  my 
grateful  thanks  for  the  favor  with  which  they  have  been  pleased 
to  look  towards  me,  to  declare  a  sincere  consciousness  that  the 
task  is  above  my  talents,  and  that  I  approach  it  with  those  anxious 
and  awful  presentiments,  which  the  greatness  of  the  charge,  and 
the  weakness  of  my  powers  so  justly  inspire.  A  rising  nation 
spread  over  a  wide  and  fruitful  land,  traversing  all  the  seas  with 
the  rich  productions  of  their  industry,  engaged  in  commerce  with 
nations  who  feel  power  and  forget  right,  advancing  rapidly  to 
destinies  beyond  the  reach  of  mortal  eye;  when  I  contemplate 
these  transcendent  objects,  and  see  the  honor,  the  happiness,  and 
the  hopes  of  this  beloved  country  committed  to  the  issue  and  the 
auspices  of  this  day,  I  shrink  from  the  contemplation,  and  humble 
myself  before  the  magnitude  of  the  undertaking. 

Utterly  indeed  should  I  despair,  did  not  the  presence  of  many 
whom  I  here  see,  remind  me,  that  in  the  other  high  authorities 
provided  by  our  constitution,  I  shall  find  resources  of  wisdom,  of 
virtue  and  of  zeal,  on  which  to  rely  under  all  difficulties.  To  you 
then,  gentlemen,  who  are  charged  with  the  sovereign  functions  of 
legislation,  and  to  those  associated  with  you,  I  look  with  encour 
agement  for  that  guidance  and  support  which  may  enable  us  to 
steer  with  safety,  the  vessel  in  which  we  are  all  embarked  amidst 
the  conflicting  elements  of  a  troubled  sea. 

During  the  contest  of  opinion  through  which  we  have  passed, 
the  animation  of  discussions  and  of  exertions,  has  sometimes 
worn  an  aspect  which  might  impose  on  strangers  unused  to  think 


358  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

freely,  and  to  speak  and  to  write  what  they  think.  But  this  being 
now  decided  by  the  voice  of  the  nation,  ennounced  according  to 
the  rules  of  the  constitution,  all  will  of  course  arrange  themselves 
under  the  will  of  the  law,  and  unite  in  common  efforts  for  the 
common  good.  All  too  will  bear  in  mind  the  sacred  principle 
that  though  the  will  of  the  Majority  is  in  all  cases  to  prevail,  that 
will,  to  be  rightful,  must  be  reasonable :  that  the  Minority  possess 
their  equal  rights,  which  equal  laws  must  protect,  and  to  violate 
would  be  oppression. 

Let  us  then,  fellow  citizens,  unite  with  one  heart  and  one  mind ; 
let  us  restore  to  social  intercourse  that  harmony  and  affection, 
without  which  Liberty,  and  even  Life  itself,  are  but  dreary  things. 
And  let  us  reflect  that  having  banished  from  our  land  that  reli 
gious  intolerance  under  which  mankind  so  long  bled  and  suffered 
we  have  yet  gained  little,  if  we  countenance  a  political  intolerance, 
as  despotic,  as  wicked  and  capable  of  as  bitter  and  bloody  perse 
cution.  During  the  throes  and  convulsions  of  the  antient  world, 
during  the  agonized  spasms  of  infuriated  man,  seeking  through 
blood  and  slaughter  his  long  lost  liberty,  it  was  not  wonderful 
that  the  agitation  of  the  billows  should  reach  even  this  distant 
and  peaceful  shore:  that  this  should  be  more  felt  and  feared  by 
some,  and  less  by  others,  and  should  divide  opinions  as  to  meas 
ures  of  safety.  But  every  difference  of  opinion,  is  not  a  difference 
of  principle.  We  have  called,  by  different  names,  brethren  of  the 
same  principle.  We  are  all  republicans:  we  are  all  federalists. 
If  there  be  any  among  us  who  wish  to  dissolve  this  union,  or  to 
change  its  republican  form,  let  them  stand  undisturbed,  as  monu 
ments  of  the  safety  with  which  error  of  opinion  may  be  tolerated 
where  reason  is  left  free  to  combat  it. 

I  know  indeed  that  some  honest  men  have  feared  that  a  repub 
lican  government  cannot  be  strong;  that  this  government  is  not 
strong  enough.  But  would  the  honest  patriot,  in  the  full  tide  of 
successful  experiment  abandon  a  government  which  has  so  far 
kept  us  free  and  firm  on  the  theoretic  and  visionary  fear  that  this 
government,  the  world's  best  hope  may,  by  possibility,  want 
energy  to  preserve  itself  ?  I  trust  not.  I  believe  this,  on  the  con 
trary,  the  strongest  government  on  earth.  I  believe  it  the  only 
one  where  every  man,  at  the  call  of  the  law,  would  fly  to  the 


THOMAS  JEFFERSON  359 

standard  of  the  law;  would  meet  invasions  of  public  order,  as 
his  own  personal  concern.  Some  times  it  is  said  that  man  can 
not  be  trusted  with  the  government  of  himself.  —  Can  he  then 
be  trusted  with  the  government  of  others?  Or  have  we  found 
angels  in  the  form  of  kings  to  govern  him  ?  —  Let  History  answer 
this  question. 

Let  us  then  pursue  with  courage  and  confidence  our  own 
federal  and  republican  principles,  our  attachment  to  Union  and 
Representative  government.  Kindly  separated  by  nature,  and  a 
wide  ocean,  from  the  exterminating  havoc  of  one  quarter  of  the 
globe,  Too  high-minded  to  endure  the  degradations  of  the  others ; 
Possessing  a  chosen  country,  with  room  enough  for  all  descendants 
to  the  i,oooth  and  i,oooth  generation;  Entertaining  a  due  sense 
of  our  equal  right  to  the  use  of  our  own  faculties,  to  the  acqui 
sitions  of  our  own  industry,  to  honor  and  confidence  from  our 
fellow  citizens  resulting  not  from  birth,  but  from  our  actions  and 
their  sense  of  them,  enlightened  by  a  benign  religion,  professed 
indeed  and  practiced  in  various  forms,  yet  all  of  them  inculcat 
ing  honesty,  truth,  temperance,  gratitude,  and  the  love  of  man, 
acknowledging  and  adoring  an  over-ruling  providence,  which  by 
all  its  dispensations  proves  that  it  delights  in  the  happiness  of 
man  here,  and  his  greater  happiness  hereafter:  With  all  these 
blessings,  what  more  is  necessary  to  make  us  a  happy  and  a 
prosperous  people?  Still  one  thing  more,  fellow  citizens,  a  wise 
and  frugal  government,  which  shall  restrain  men  from  injuring 
one  another,  shall  leave  them  otherwise  free  to  regulate  their  own 
pursuits  of  industry  and  improvement,  and  shall  not  take  from 
the  mouth  of  labor  the  bread  it  has  earned.  This  is  the  sum  of 
good  government,  and  this  is  necessary  to  close  the  circle  of  our 
felicities. 

About  to  enter  fellow  citizens  on  the  exercise  of  duties,  which 
comprehend  everything  dear  and  valuable  to  you,  it  is  proper  you 
should  understand  what  I  deem  the  essential  principles  of  this 
government  and  consequently  those  which  ought  to  shape  it's 
administration.  I  will  compress  them  in  the  narrowest  compass 
they  will  bear,  stating  the  general  principle,  but  not  all  its  limita 
tions.  Equal  and  exact  justice  to  all  men,  of  whatever  state  or 
persuasion,  religious  or  political:  Peace,  commerce,  and  honest 


360  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

friendship  with  all  nations,  entangling  alliances  with  none:  The 
support  of  the  State  governments  in  all  their  rights,  as  the  most 
competent  administrators  for  our  domestic  concerns,  and  the 
surest  bulwarks  against  anti  republican  tendencies:  The  preser 
vation  of  the  General  government,  in  it's  whole  constitutional 
vigor,  as  the  sheet  anchor  of  our  peace  at  home,  and  safety  abroad. 
A  jealous  care  of  the  right  of  election  by  the  people,  a  mild  and 
safe  corrective  of  abuses,  which  are  lopped  by  the  sword  of  revo 
lution,  where  peaceable  remedies  are  unprovided.  Absolute  ac 
quiescence  in  the  decisions  of  the  Majority,  the  vital  principle 
of  republics,  from  which  is  no  appeal  but  to  force,  the  vital  prin 
ciple  and  immediate  parent  of  despotism.  A  well  disciplined 
militia,  our  best  reliance  in  peace,  and  for  the  first  moments  of 
war,  till  regulars  may  relieve  them :  The  Supremacy  of  the  Civil 
over  the  Military  authority:  Economy  in  public  expense,  that 
labor  may  be  lightly  burthened:  The  honest  paiment  of  our 
debts  and  sacred  preservation  of  the  public  faith:  Encourage 
ment  of  Agriculture,  and  of  Commerce  as  its  handmaid:  The 
diffusion  of  information,  and  arraignment  of  all  abuses  at  the  bar 
of  the  public  reason :  Freedom  of  Religion,  freedom  of  the  press, 
and  freedom  of  Person  under  the  protection  of  the  Habeas  corpus : 
And  trial  by  juries,  impartially  selected.  These  principles  form 
the  bright  constellation  which  has  gone  before  us,  and  guided 
our  steps,  thro'  an  age  of  Revolution  and  Reformation :  The  wis 
dom  of  our  Sages,  and  blood  of  our  Heroes,  have  been  devoted 
to  their  attainment:  they  should  be  the  Creed  of  our  political 
faith,  the  Text  of  civic  instruction,  the  Touchstone  by  which  to 
try  the  services  of  those  we  trust;  and  should  we  wander  from 
them,  in  moments  of  error  or  alarm,  let  us  hasten  to  retrace  our 
steps  and  to  regain  the  road  which  alone  leads  to  Peace,  Liberty 
and  Safety. 

I  repair  then,  fellow  citizens  to  the  post  which  you  have  as 
signed  me.  With  experience  enough  in  subordinate  stations  to 
know  the  difficulties  of  this  the  greatest  of  all,  I  have  learnt  to 
expect  that  it  will  rarely  fall  to  the  lot  of  imperfect  man  to  retire 
from  this  station  with  the  reputation  and  the  favor  which  bring 
him  into  it.  Without  pretensions  to  that  high  confidence  you 
reposed  in  our  first  and  greatest  revolutionary  character  whose 


THOMAS  JEFFERSON  361 

pre-eminent  services  had  entitled  him  to  the  first  place  in  his 
country's  love,  and  had  destined  for  him  the  fairest  page  in  the 
volume  of  faithful  history,  I  ask  so  much  confidence  only  as  may 
give  firmness  and  effect  to  the  legal  administration  of  your  affairs. 
I  shall  often  go  wrong  thro'  defect  of  judgment:  when  right,  I 
shall  often  be  thought  wrong  by  those  whose  positions  will  not 
command  a  view  of  the  whole  ground.  I  ask  your  indulgence 
for  my  own  errors,  which  will  never  be  intentional:  and  your 
support  against  the  errors  of  others  who  may  condemn  what  they 
would  not  if  seen  in  all  its  parts.  The  approbation  implied  by 
your  suffrage,  is  a  great  consolation  to  me  for  the  past ;  and  my 
future  solicitude  will  be  to  retain  the  good  opinion  of  those  who 
have  bestowed  it  in  advance,  to  conciliate  that  of  others,  by  doing 
them  all  the  good  in  my  power,  and  to  be  instrumental  to  the 
happiness  and  freedom  of  all.  Relying  then  on  the  patronage 
of  your  good  will,  I  advance  with  obedience  to  the  work,  ready  to 
retire  from  it  whenever  you  become  sensible  how  much  better 
choice  it  is  in  your  power  to  make.  And  may  that  infinite  power 
which  rules  the  destinies  of  the  universe  lead  our  councils  to  what 
is  best,  and  give  them  a  favorable  issue  for  your  peace  and  pros 
perity. 


ALEXANDER  HAMILTON 

[Alexander  Hamilton  was  born  in  the  West  India  Islands  in  1757.  At  the 
age  of  thirteen  he  was  performing  important  duties  as  clerk  in  a  counting- 
house;  at  the  age  of  fifteen  he  was  sent  by  friends  and  relatives  to  New 
York,  where  he  entered  King's  College,  now  Columbia;  and  at  the  age  of 
seventeen  he  wrote  "A  Full  Vindication  of  the  Measures  of  Congress  from 
the  calumnies  of  their  enemies,  in  answer  to  a  letter  under  the  signature  of 
a  Westchester  Farmer."  This  pamphlet  and  its  immediate  successor,  "The 
Farmer  Refuted, "  replied  so  effectively  to  the  powerful  loyalist  writings  of 
"The  Westchester  Farmer"  that  they  brought  the  young  college  student  into 
general  notice,  and  from  this  time  until  his  death  in  1804,  Hamilton  was  a 
public  man.  During  the  war  he  served  as  an  officer,  and  for  a  considerable 
time  was  a  member  of  Washington's  staff,  and  had  charge  of  Washington's 
official  correspondence.  Later  he  was  member  of  Congress,  member  of  the 
constitutional  convention,  and  Secretary  of  the  Treasury  under  Washington. 
His  achievements  in  establishing  the  financial  system  of  the  nation  are  mat 
ters  of  political  history.  After  he  left  the  cabinet  he  remained  a  real  and 
continually  active  leader  of  the  Federalist  party.  The  duel  in  which  he  was 
fatally  wounded  by  Aaron  Burr  was  the  result  of  political  disagreements. 

In  his  political  writings,  which  constitute  practically  all  his  works,  Hamil 
ton  shows  a  literary  style  unsurpassed  for  its  purpose  by  that  of  any  Revo 
lutionary  statesman.  As  might  be  expected  from  his  age  and  the  circum 
stances  under  which  he  wrote,  his  earliest  pamphlets  show  a  certain  specious- 
ness  of  argument,  and  an  occasional  appeal  to  popular  feeling.  His  later 
writings  are  equally  notable  for  clearness  of  statement  and  logical  accuracy 
of  thought.  The  greatest  work  of  his  pen  was  "The  Federalist."  This 
series  of  letters  to  the  people  of  the  State  of  New  York  was  the  joint  work 
of  Hamilton,  Madison,  and  Jay;  but  Hamilton  originated  the  plan,  and 
wrote  the  great  majority  of  the  numbers.  It  was  probably  the  most  powerful 
single  influence  in  securing  the  adoption  of  the  Federal  constitution,  and  it 
has  since  become  established  as  one  of  our  greatest  political  classics.  It  is 
a  remarkable  tribute  to  Hamilton's  mastery  of  expression  that  this  work  was 
effective  as  a  popular  campaign  document  in  1788,  and  is  still  recognized 
by  the  courts  and  by  students  of  constitutional  law  as  one  of  the  ablest  and 
most  exact  expositions  of  the  theory  of  our  government.  Many  of  Hamilton's 
later  state  papers,  especially  those  dealing  with  finance,  are  models  of  their 
kind. 

The  selections  here  given  follow  the  best  edition  of  Hamilton's  works,  that 
prepared  by  Henry  Cabot  Lodge.  The  text  of  the  "Federalist "  is  that  of  the 
original  publication.] 

36* 


ALEXANDER  HAMILTON  363 

THE  ISSUE  STATED 

[From  "A  Full  Vindication"] 

The  only  distinction  between  freedom  and  slavery  consists  in 
this :  In  the  former  state  a  man  is  governed  by  the  laws  to  which 
he  has  given  his  consent,  either  in  person  or  by  his  representative ; 
in  the  latter,  he  is  governed  by  the  will  of  another.  In  the  one 
case,  his  life  and  property  are  his  own;  in  the  other,  they  depend 
upon  the  pleasure  of  his  master.  It  is  easy  to  discern  which  of 
these  two  states  is  preferable.  No  man  in  his  senses  can  hesitate 
in  choosing  to  be  free,  rather  than  a  slave. 

That  Americans  are  entitled  to  freedom  is  incontestable  on 
every  rational  principle.  All  men  have  one  common  original: 
they  participate  in  one  common  nature,  and  consequently  have 
one  common  right.  No  reason  can  be  assigned  why  one  man 
should  exercise  any  power  or  pre-eminence  over  his  fellow-creatures 
more  than  another;  unless  they  have  voluntarily  vested  him  with 
it.  Since,  then,  Americans  have  not,  by  any  act  of  theirs,  em 
powered  the  British  Parliament  to  make  laws  for  them,  it  follows 
they  can  have  no  just  authority  to  do  it. 

Besides  the  clear  voice  of  natural  justice  in  this  respect,  the 
fundamental  principles  of  the  English  constitution  are  in  our 
favor.  It  has  been  repeatedly  demonstrated  that  the  idea  of 
legislation  or  taxation,  when  the  subject  is  not  represented,  is 
inconsistent  with  that.  Nor  is  this  all ;  our  charters,  the  express 
conditions  on  which  our  progenitors  relinquished  their  native 
countries,  and  came  to  settle  in  this,  preclude  every  claim  of 
ruling  and  taxing  us  without  our  assent. 

Every  subterfuge  that  sophistry  has  been  able  to  invent,  to 
evade  or  obscure  this  truth,  has  been  refuted  by  the  most  con 
clusive  reasonings;  so  that  we  may  pronounce  it  a  matter  of 
undeniable  certainty,  that  the  pretensions  of  Parliament  are  con 
tradictory  to  the  law  of  nature,  subversive  of  the  British  constitu 
tion,  and  destructive  of  the  faith  of  the  most  solemn  compacts. 

What,  then,  is  the  subject  of  our  controversy  with  the  mother 
country?  It  is  this:  Whether  we  shall  preserve  that  security  to 
our  lives  and  properties,  which  the  law  of  nature,  the  genius  of 
the  British  constitution,  and  our  charters,  afford  us;  or  whether 


364  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

we  shall  resign  them  into  the  hands  of  the  British  House  of  Com 
mons,  which  is  no  more  privileged  to  dispose  of  them  than  the 
Great  Mogul  ?  What  can  actuate  those  men  who  labor  to  delude 
any  of  us  into  an  opinion  that  the  object  of  contention  between 
the  parent  state  and  the  colonies  is  only  three  pence  duty  upon 
tea?  or  that  the  commotions  in  America  originate  in  a  plan, 
formed  by  some  turbulent  men,  to  erect  it  into  a  republican  gov 
ernment?  The  Parliament  claims  a  right  to  tax  us  in  all  cases 
whatsoever;  its  late  acts  are  in  virtue  of  that  claim.  How  ridicu 
lous,  then,  is  it  to  affirm  that  we  are  quarrelling  for  the  trifling 
sum  of  three  pence  a  pound  on  tea,  when  it  is  evidently  the  prin 
ciple  against  which  we  contend. 

THE  FEDERALIST.     No.   XXIV 

To  the  People  of  the  State  of  New  York: 

To  the  powers  proposed  to  be  conferred  upon  the  federal  gov 
ernment,  in  respect  to  the  creation  and  direction  of  the  national 
forces,  I  have  met  with  but  one  specific  objection,  which,  if  I 
understand  it  right,  is  this,  —  that  proper  provision  has  not  been 
made  against  the  existence  of  standing  armies  in  time  of  peace; 
an  objection  which,  I  shall  now  endeavor  to  show,  rests  on  weak 
and  unsubstantial  foundations. 

It  has  indeed  been  brought  forward  in  the  most  vague  and 
general  form,  supported  only  by  bold  assertions,  without  the 
appearance  of  argument;  without  even  the  sanction  of  theo 
retical  opinions;  in  contradiction  to  the  practice  of  other  free 
nations,  and  to  the  general  sense  of  America,  as  expressed  in 
most  of  the  existing  constitutions.  The  propriety  of  this  remark 
will  appear,  the  moment  it  is  recollected  that  the  objection  under 
consideration  turns  upon  a  supposed  necessity  of  restraining  the 
LEGISLATIVE  authority  of  the  nation,  in  the  article  of  military 
establishments;  a  principle  unheard  of,  except  in  one  or  two  of 
our  State  constitutions,  and  rejected  in  all  the  rest. 

A  stranger  to  our  politics,  who  was  to  read  our  newspapers  at 
the  present  juncture,  without  having  previously  inspected  the 
plan  reported  by  the  convention,  would  be  naturally  led  to  one 
of  two  conclusions :  either  that  it  contained  a  positive  injunction, 


ALEXANDER  HAMILTON  365 

that  standing  armies  should  be  kept  up  in  time  of  peace ;  or  that 
it  vested  in  the  EXECUTIVE  the  whole  power  of  levying  troops, 
without  subjecting  his  discretion,  in  any  shape,  to  the  control  of 
the  legislature. 

If  he  came  afterwards  to  peruse  the  plan  itself,  he  would  be 
surprised  to  discover,  that  neither  the  one  nor  the  other  was  the 
case;  that  the  whole  power  of  raising  armies  was  lodged  in  the 
Legislature,  not  in  the  Executive;  that  this  legislature  was  to  be 
a  popular  body,  consisting  of  the  representatives  of  the  people 
periodically  elected;  and  that  instead  of  the  provision  he  had 
supposed  in  favor  of  standing  armies,  there  was  to  be  found,  in 
respect  to  this  object,  an  important  qualification  even  of  the 
legislative  discretion,  in  that  clause  which  forbids  the  appropria 
tion  of  money  for  the  support  of  an  army  for  any  longer  period 
than  two  years  —  a  precaution  which,  upon  a  nearer  view  of  it, 
will  appear  to  be  a  great  and  real  security  against  the  keeping  up 
of  troops  without  evident  necessity. 

Disappointed  in  his  first  surmise,  the  person  I  have  supposed 
would  be  apt  to  pursue  his  conjectures  a  little  further.  He  would 
naturally  say  to  himself,  it  is  impossible  that  all  this  vehement 
and  pathetic  declamation  can  be  without  some  colorable  pretext. 
It  must  needs  be  that  this  people,  so  jealous  of  their  liberties, 
have,  in  all  the  preceding  models  of  the  constitutions  which  they 
have  established,  inserted  the  most  precise  and  rigid  precautions 
on  this  point,  the  omission  of  which,  in  the  new  plan,  has  given 
birth  to  all  this  apprehension  and  clamor. 

If,  under  this  impression,  he  proceeded  to  pass  in  review  the 
several  State  constitutions,  how  great  would  be  his  disappointment 
to  find  that  two  only  of  them l  contained  an  interdiction  of  standing 

1  This  statement  of  the  matter  is  taken  from  the  printed  collection  of  State 
constitutions.  Pennsylvania  and  North  Carolina  are  the  two  which  contain  the 
interdiction  in  these  words:  "As  standing  armies  in  time  of  peace  are  dangerous 
to  liberty,  THEY  OUGHT  NOT  to  be  kept  up."  This  is,  in  truth,  rather  a  CAUTION 
than  a  PROHIBITION.  New  Hampshire,  Massachusetts,  Delaware,  and  Mary 
land  have,  in  each  of  their  bills  of  rights,  a  clause  to  this  effect:  "Stand 
ing  armies  are  dangerous  to  liberty,  and  ought  not  to  be  raised  or  kept  up 
WITHOUT  THE  CONSENT  OF  THE  LEGISLATURE;"  which  is  a  formal  admission 
of  the  authority  of  the  Legislature.  New  York  has  no  bills  of  rights,  and  her 
-constitution  says  not  a  word  about  the  matter.  No  bills  of  rights  appear  annexed 
to  the  constitutions  of  the  other  States,  except  the  foregoing,  and  their  constitu- 

\ 


366  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

armies  in  time  of  peace ;  that  the  other  eleven  had  either  observed 
a  profound  silence  on  the  subject,  or  had  in  express  terms  ad 
mitted  the  right  of  the  Legislature  to  authorize  their  existence. 

Still,  however,  he  would  be  persuaded  that  there  must  be  some 
plausible  foundation  for  the  cry  raised  on  this  head.  He  would 
never  be  able  to  imagine,  while  any  source  of  information  remained 
unexplored,  that  it  was  nothing  more  than  an  experiment  upon 
the  public  credulity,  dictated  either  by  a  deliberate  intention  to 
deceive,  or  by  the  overflowings  of  a  zeal  too  intemperate  to  be 
ingenuous.  It  would  probably  occur  to  him,  that  he  would  be 
likely  to  find  the  precautions  he  was  in  search  of  in  the  primitive 
compact  between  the  States.  Here,  at  length,  he  would  expect 
to  meet  with  a  solution  of  the  enigma.  No  doubt,  he  would 
observe  to  himself,  the  existing  Confederation  must  contain  the 
most  explicit  provisions  against  military  establishments  in  time 
of  peace;  and  a  departure  from  this  model,  in  a  favorite  point, 
has  occasioned  the  discontent  which  appears  to  influence  these 
political  champions. 

If  he  should  now  apply  himself  to  a  careful  and  critical  survey 
of  the  articles  of  Confederation,  his  astonishment  would  not  only 
be  increased,  but  would  acquire  a  mixture  of  indignation,  at  the 
unexpected  discovery,  that  these  articles,  instead  of  containing 
the  prohibition  he  looked  for,  and  though  they  had,  with  jealous 
circumspection,  restricted  the  authority  of  the  State  legislatures 
in  this  particular,  had  not  imposed  a  single  restraint  on  that  of 
the  United  States.  If  he  happened  to  be  a  man  of  quick  sen 
sibility,  or  ardent  temper,  he  could  now  no  longer  refrain  from 
regarding  these  clamors  as  the  dishonest  artifices  of  a  sinister  and 
unprincipled  opposition  to  a  plan  which  ought  at  least  to  receive 
a  fair  and  candid  examination  from  all  sincere  lovers  of  their 
country!  How  else,  he  would  say,  could  the  authors  of  them 
have  been  tempted  to  vent  such  loud  censures  upon  that  plan, 
about  a  point  in  which  it  seems  to  have  conformed  itself  to  the 
general  sense  of  America  as  declared  in  its  different  forms  of 

tions  are  equally  silent.  I  am  told,  however,  that  one  or  two  States  have  bills  of 
rights  which  do  not  appear  in  this  collection;  but  that  those  also  recognize  the 
right  of  the  legislative  authority  in  this  respect. 

—  PUBLIUS. 


ALEXANDER  HAMILTON  367 

government,  and  in  which  it  has  even  superadded  a  new  and 
powerful  guard  unknown  to  any  of  them?  If,  on  the  contrary, 
he  happened  to  be  a  man  of  calm  and  dispassionate  feelings,  he 
would  indulge  a  sigh  for  the  frailty  of  human  nature,  and  would 
lament,  that  in  a  matter  so  interesting  to  the  happiness  of  millions, 
the  true  merits  of  the  question  should  be  perplexed  and  entangled 
by  expedients  so  unfriendly  to  an  impartial  and  right  determina 
tion.  Even  such  a  man  could  hardly  forbear  remarking,  that  a 
conduct  of  this  kind  has  too  much  the  appearance  of  an  intention 
to  mislead  the  people  by  alarming  their  passions,  rather  than  to 
convince  them  by  arguments  addressed  to  their  understandings. 

But  however  little  this  objection  may  be  countenanced,  even 
by  precedents  among  ourselves,  it  may  be  satisfactory  to  take  a 
nearer  view  of  its  intrinsic  merits.  From  a  close  examination  it 
will  appear  that  restraints  upon  the  discretion  of  the  legislature 
in  respect  to  military  establishments  in  time  of  peace,  would  be 
improper  to  be  imposed,  and  if  imposed,  from  the  necessities  of 
society,  would  be  unlikely  to  be  observed. 

Though  a  wide  ocean  separates  the  United  States  from  Europe, 
yet  there  are  various  considerations  that  warn  us  against  an 
excess  of  confidence  or  security.  On  one  side  of  us,  and  stretch 
ing  far  into  our  rear,  are  growing  settlements  subject  to  the  do 
minion  of  Britain.  On  the  other  side,  and  extending  to  meet  the 
British  settlements,  are  colonies  and  establishments  subject  to  the 
dominion  of  Spain.  This  situation  and  the  vicinity  of  the  West 
India  Islands,  belonging  to  these  two  powers,  create  between 
them,  in  respect  to  their  American  possessions  and  in  relation  to 
us,  a  common  interest.  The  savage  tribes  on  our  Western  fron 
tier  ought  to  be  regarded  as  our  natural  enemies,  their  natural 
allies,  because  they  have  most  to  fear  from  us,  and  most  to  hope 
from  them.  The  improvements  in  the  art  of  navigation  have,  as 
to  the  facility  of  communication,  rendered  distant  nations,  in  a 
great  measure,  neighbors.  Britain  and  Spain  are  among  the 
principal  maritime  powers  of  Europe.  A  future  concert  of  views 
between  these  nations  ought  not  to  be  regarded  as  improbable. 
The  increasing  remoteness  of  consanguinity  is  every  day  diminish 
ing  the  force  of  the  family  compact  between  France  and  Spain. 
And  politicians  have  ever  with  great  reason  considered  the  ties 


368  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

of  blood  as  feeble  and  precarious  links  of  political  connection. 
These  circumstances  combined,  admonish  us  not  to  be  too  san 
guine  in  considering  ourselves  as  entirely  out  of  the  reach  of 
danger. 

Previous  to  the  Revolution,  and  ever  since  the  peace,  there 
has  been  a  constant  necessity  for  keeping  small  garrisons  on  our 
Western  frontier.  No  person  can  doubt  that  these  will  continue 
to  be  indispensable,  if  it  should  only  be  against  the  ravages  and 
depredations  of  the  Indians.  These  garrisons  must  either  be 
furnished  by  occasional  detachments  from  the  militia,  or  by  per 
manent  corps  in  the  pay  of  the  government.  The  first  is  im 
practicable;  and  if  practicable,  would  be  pernicious.  The  mili 
tia  would  not  long,  if  at  all,  submit  to  be  dragged  from  their  occu 
pations  and  families  to  perform  that  most  disagreeable  duty  in 
times  of  profound  peace.  And  if  they  could  be  prevailed  upon  or 
compelled  to  do  it,  the  increased  expense  of  a  frequent  rotation  of 
service,  and  the  loss  of  labor  and  disconcertion  of  the  industrious 
pursuits  of  individuals,  would  form  conclusive  objections  to  the 
scheme.  It  would  be  as  burdensome  and  injurious  to  the  public 
as  ruinous  to  private  citizens.  The  latter  resource  of  permanent 
corps  in  the  pay  of  the  government  amounts  to  a  standing  army 
in  time  of  peace ;  a  small  one,  indeed,  but  not  the  less  real  for  being 
small.  Here  is  a  simple  view  of  the  subject,  that  shows  us  at 
once  the  impropriety  of  a  constitutional  interdiction  of  such  estab 
lishments,  and  the  necessity  of  leaving  the  matter  to  the  discretion 
and  prudence  of  the  legislature. 

In  proportion  to  our  increase  in  strength,  it  is  probable,  nay,  it 
may  be  said  certain,  that  Britain  and  Spain  would  augment  their 
military  establishments  in  our  neighborhood.  If  we  should  not 
be  willing  to  be  exposed,  in  a  naked  and  defenceless  condition,  to 
their  insults  and  encroachments,  we  should  find  it  expedient  to 
increase  our  frontier  garrisons  in  some  ratio  to  the  force  by  which 
our  Western  settlements  might  be  annoyed.  There  are,  and  will 
be,  particular  posts,  the  possession  of  which  will  include  the  com 
mand  of  large  districts  of  territory,  and  facilitate  future  invasions 
of  the  remainder.  It  may  be  added  that  some  of  those  posts  will 
be  keys  to  the  trade  with  the  Indian  nations.  Can  any  man  think 
it  would  be  wise  to  leave  such  posts  in  a  situation  to  be  at  any  in- 


ALEXANDER  HAMILTON  369 

stant  seized  by  one  or  the  other  of  two  neighboring  and  formi 
dable  powers  ?  To  act  this  part  would  be  to  desert  all  the  usual 
maxims  of  prudence  and  policy. 

If  we  mean  to  be  a  commercial  people,  or  even  to  be  secure  on 
our  Atlantic  side,  we  must  endeavor,  as  soon  as  possible,  to  have 
a  navy.  To  this  purpose  there  must  be  dock-yards  and  arsenals; 
and  for  the  defence  of  these,  fortifications  and  probably  garri 
sons.  When  a  nation  has  become  so  powerful  by  sea  that  it  can 
protect  its  dock-yards  by  its  fleets,  this  supersedes  the  necessity 
of  garrisons  for  that  purpose;  but  where  naval  establishments 
are  in  their  infancy,  moderate  garrisons  will,  in  all  likelihood,  be 
found  an  indispensable  security  against  descents  for  the  destruc 
tion  of  the  arsenals  and  dock-yards,  and  sometimes  of  the  fleet 
itself.  PUBLIUS. 

THE   IMPORTANCE   OF  MAINTAINING  PUBLIC 
CREDIT 

[From  a  report  to  the  House  of  Representatives,   January  14,  1790} 

Every  breach  of  the  public  engagements,  whether  from  choice 
or  necessity,  is,  in  different  degrees,  hurtful  to  public  credit. 
When  such  a  necessity  does  truly  exist,  the  evils  of  it  are  only  to 
be  palliated  by  a  scrupulous  attention,  on  the  part  of  the  Govern 
ment,  to  carry  the  violation  no  further  than  the  necessity  abso 
lutely  requires,  and  to  manifest,  if  the  nature  of  the  case  admit  of 
it,  a  sincere  disposition  to  make  reparation  whenever  circum 
stances  shall  permit.  But,  with  every  possible  mitigation,  credit 
must  suffer,  and  numerous  mischiefs  ensue.  It  is,  therefore, 
highly  important,  when  an  appearance  of  necessity  seems  to  press 
upon  the  public  councils,  that  they  should  examine  well  its  real 
ity,  and  be  perfectly  assured  that  there  is  no  method  of  escaping 
from  it,  before  they  yield  to  its  suggestions.  For,  though  it  can 
not  safely  be  affirmed  that  occasions  have  never  existed,  or  may 
not  exist,  in  which  violations  of  the  public  faith,  in  this  respect,  are 
inevitable;  yet  there  is  great  reason  to  believe  that  they  exist  far 
less  frequently  than  precedents  indicate,  and  are  oftenest  either 
pretended,  through  levity  or  want  of  firmness;  or  supposed, 
through  want  of  knowledge.  Expedients  often  have  been  devised 
•  2  B 


370  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

to  effect,  consistently  with  good  faith,  what  has  been  done  in 
contravention  of  it.  Those  who  are  most  commonly  creditors  of 
a  nation  are,  generally  speaking,  enlightened  men;  and  there  are 
signal  examples  to  warrant  a  conclusion  that,  when  a  candid  and 
fair  appeal  is  made  to  them,  they  will  understand  their  true  inter 
est  too  well  to  refuse  their  concurrence  in  such  modifications  of 
their  claims  as  any  real  necessity  may  demand. 

While  the  observance  of  that  good  faith,  which  is  the  basis  of 
public  credit,  is  recommended  by  the  strongest  inducements  of 
political  expediency,  it  is  enforced  by  considerations  of  still  greater 
authority.  There  are  arguments  for  it  which  rest  on  the  immu 
table  principles  of  moral  obligation.  And  in  proportion  as  the 
mind  is  disposed  to  contemplate,  in  the  order  of  Providence,  an 
intimate  connection  between  public  virtue  and  public  happiness, 
will  be  its  repugnancy  to  a  violation  of  those  principles. 

This  reflection  derives  additional  strength  from  the  nature  of 
the  debt  of  the  United  States.  It  was  the  price  of  liberty.  The 
faith  of  America  has  been  repeatedly  pledged  for  it,  and  with 
solemnities  that  give  peculiar  force  to  the  obligation.  There  is, 
indeed,  reason  to  regret  that  it  has  not  hitherto  been  kept;  that 
the  necessities  of  the  war,  conspiring  with  inexperience  in  the 
subjects  of  finance,  produced  direct  infractions ;  and  that  the  sub 
sequent  period  has  been  a  continued  scene  of  negative  violation 
or  non-compliance.  But  a  diminution  of  this  regret  arises  from 
the  reflection,  that  the  last  seven  years  have  exhibited  an  earnest 
and  uniform  effort,  on  the  part  of  the  Government  of  the  Union, 
to  retrieve  the  national  credit,  by  doing  justice  to  the  creditors 
of  the  nation ;  and  that  the  embarrassments  of  a  defective  Consti 
tution,  which  defeated  this  laudable  effort,  have  ceased. 

From  this  evidence  of  a  favorable  disposition  given  by  the  former 
Government,  the  institution  of  a  new  one,  clothed  with  powers  com 
petent  to  calling  forth  the  resources  of  the  community,  has  excited 
correspondent  expectations.  A  general  belief  accordingly  prevails, 
that  the  credit  of  the  United  States  will  quickly  be  established  on 
the  firm  foundation  of  an  effectual  provision  for  the  existing  debt. 
The  influence  which  this  has  had  at  home  is  witnessed  by  the 
rapid  increase  that  has  taken  place  in  the  market  value  of  the 
public  securities.  From  January  to  November,  they  rose  thirty- 


ALEXANDER  HAMILTON  371 

three  and  a  third  per  cent. ;  and,  from  that  period  to  this  time, 
they  have  risen  fifty  per  cent,  more;  and  the  intelligence  from 
abroad  announces  effects  proportionally  favorable  to  our  national 
credit  and  consequence. 

It  cannot  but  merit  particular  attention,  that,  among  ourselves, 
the  most  enlightened  friends  of  good  government  are  those  whose 
expectations  are  the  highest. 

To  justify  and  preserve  their  confidence;  to  promote  the  in 
creasing  respectability  of  the  American  name ;  to  answer  the  calls 
of  justice ;  to  restore  landed  property  to  its  due  value ;  to  furnish 
new  resources,  both  to  agriculture  and  commerce;  to  cement 
more  closely  the  union  of  the  States;  to  add  to  their  security 
against  foreign  attack;  to  establish  public  order  on  the  basis  of 
an  upright  and  liberal  policy ;  —  these  are  the  great  and  invalu 
able  ends  to  be  secured  by  a  proper  and  adequate  provision,  at  the 
present  period,  for  the  support  of  public  credit. 


FRANCIS   HOPKINSON 

[Francis  Hopkinson  (1737-1791)  illustrates  literary  tendencies  that  were 
naturally  rare  in  the  colonial  time,  and  to  the  student  of  literary  develop 
ment  his  writings  have  an  interest  disproportionate  to  their  intrinsic  merits. 
He  was  born  in  Philadelphia,  and  after  taking  a  course  at  the  College  of 
Philadelphia,  studied  law,  served  for  a  year  as  librarian  of  the  Philadelphia 
library,  and  spent  a  year  in  England.  He  held  many  public  offices  in  Penn 
sylvania  and  New  Jersey,  among  them  member  of  the  Continental  Congress, 
judge  of  the  admiralty,  and  United  States  district  judge.  Though  able  and 
active  in  his  profession  and  in  the  discharge  of  his  public  duties,  he  had  wide 
interests  and  many  accomplishments.  He  was  a  member  of  scientific  and 
learned  societies,  a  musician  and  a  composer,  and  an  amateur  painter.  His 
versatility  is  shown  in  the  three  volumes  of  miscellaneous  writings  in  prose 
and  verse  which  he  prepared  for  publication,  and  which  were  issued  shortly 
after  his  death.  These  include  opinions  rendered  as  judge  of  the  admiralty; 
essays  after  the  Addisonian  model;  orations  on  a  variety  of  subjects;  satires 
and  burlesques  on  political  topics,  on  college  examinations,  on  literary  fash 
ions,  and  many  other  things;  scientific  papers;  and  songs  written  to  be  set 
to  music  by  the  author.  In  prose  he  was  perhaps  best  as  a  genial  humorist. 
Two  of  his  best-known  prose  productions  are  "A  Pretty  Story"  and  "The 
New  Roof,"  political  allegories  in  which  he  represents  respectively  the  troubles 
between  Great  Britain  and  the  colonies,  and  the  proposed  federal  constitu 
tion.  His  most  famous  political  effort  in  verse  is  "The  Battle  of  the  Kegs," 
one  of  the  most  popular  ballads  of  the  Revolution.  Fashions  in  humor 
change,  and  allegory  has  gone  out  of  favor.  To-day  "A  Pretty  Story"  may 
seem  less  effective  than  a  simple  narrative  of  historical  fact,  and  "The 
Battle  of  the  Kegs"  may  appear  rather  flat;  but  both  appealed  to  readers 
of  the  Revolutionary  time.  The  wit  of  some  of  the  non-political  satires  and 
burlesques  may  seem  fresher,  though  the  subjects  of  these  pieces  are  mostly 
of  little  present  interest. 

Francis  Hopkinson's  works  are  significant  as  showing  that  the  middle 
colonies  had  reached  a  stage  of  development  where  a  distinguished  lawyer 
and  public  man,  a  signer  of  the  Declaration  and  a  United  States  judge, 
could  throw  off  such  trifles  for  his  amusement  without  feeling  that  they  were 
a  waste  of  time  or  beneath  his  dignity.  Both  Franklin  and  Byrd  sometimes 
wrote  for  the  pleasure  of  writing;  but  Hopkinson  is  more  spontaneous,  if 
less  excellent;  he  relaxes  more,  and  more  naturally.  The  very  amateurish 
ness  which  makes  his  style  inferior  to  that  of  either  Franklin  or  Byrd  is  a 
sign  of  the  qualities  that  make  him  important. 

The  selections  are  from  the  edition  before  referred  to,  which  was  printed 
in  1792  from  manuscripts  prepared  for  the  press  by  the  author.] 

372 


FRANCIS  HOPKINSON  373 

CONTEMPORARY  HISTORY  IN  ALLEGORY 

[From  "A  Pretty  Story"1] 

CHAP,  v 

In  the  mean  time  the  new  settlers  encreased  exceedingly,  their 
dealings  at  their  father's  shop  became  proportionably  enlarged, 
and  their  partiality  for  their  brethren  of  the  old  farm  was  sin 
cere  and  manifest.  They  suffered,  indeed,  some  inconveniences 
from  the  protectors  which  had  been  stationed  amongst  them,  who 
became  very  troublesome  in  their  houses.  They  introduced  riot 
and  intemperance  into  their  families,  debauched  their  daughters, 
and  derided  the  orders  they  had  made  for  their  own  good  gov 
ernment.  Moreover,  the  old  nobleman  had,  at  different  times,  sent 
over  to  them  a  great  number  of  thieves,  murderers,  and  robbers, 
who  did  much  mischief  by  practising  those  crimes  for  which  they 
had  been  banished  from  the  old  farm.  But  they  bore  those  evils 
with  as  much  patience  as  could  be  expected;  not  chusing  to 
trouble  their  old  father  with  complaints,  unless  in  cases  of  im 
portant  necessity. 

Now  the  steward  began  to  hate  the  new  settlers  with  exceeding 
great  hatred,  and  determined  to  renew  his  attack  upon  their  peace 
and  happiness.  He  artfully  insinuated  to  the  nobleman  and  his 
foolish  wife,  that  it  was  very  mean,  and  unbecoming  their  great 
ness,  to  receive  the  contributions  of  the  people  of  the  new  farm 
through  the  consent  of  their  respective  wives:  that  upon  this 
footing  they  might  some  time  or  other  refuse  to  comply  with  his 
requisitions,  if  they  should  take  into  their  heads  to  think  them 
oppressive  and  unreasonable ;  and  that  it  was  high  time  they  should 
be  compelled  to  acknowledge  his  unlimited  power  and  his  wife's 
omnipotence,  which,  if  not  enforced  now,  they  would  soon  be  able 
to  resist,  as  they  were  daily  encreasing  in  numbers  and  strength. 

Another  decree  was,  therefore,  prepared  and  published,  direct 
ing  that  the  people  of  the  new  farm  should  pay  a  certain  stipend 

f1  In  this  elaborate  political  allegory,  originally  published  in  1774,  the  "old 
farm"  represents  England,  and  the  "new  farm"  America.  The  "old  nobleman" 
is  the  king,  his  "wife"  is  the  parliament,  and  his  "steward"  is  the  ministry.  His 
"sons,"  the  "new  settlers,"  are  of  course  the  colonists,  and  their  "wives"  are  the 
legislatures  of  the  respective  colonies.] 


374  EARLY  AMERICAN   WRITERS 

upon  particular  goods,1  which  they  were  not  allowed  to  purchase 
any  where  but  at  their  father's  shop ;  specifying  that  this  imposi 
tion  should  not  be  laid  as  an  advance  upon  the  original  price  of 
these  goods,  but  should  be  paid  as  a  tax  on  their  arrival  in  the 
new  farm;  for  the  express  purpose  of  supporting  the  dignity  of 
the  nobleman's  family,  and  for  re-imbursing  the  expences  he 
pretended  to  have  been  at  on  their  account. 

This  new  decree  occasioned  great  uneasiness.  The  people  saw 
plainly  that  the  steward  and  their  mother-in-law  were  determined 
to  enslave  and  ruin  them.  They  again  consulted  together,  and 
wrote,  as  before,  the  most  dutiful  and  persuasive  letters  to  their 
father  —  but  to  no  purpose  —  a  deaf  ear  was  turned  against  all 
their  remonstrances,  and  their  humble  requests  rejected  with 
contempt. 

Finding  that  this  moderate  and  decent  conduct  brought  them 
no  relief,  they  had  recourse  to  another  expedient:  they  bound 
themselves  to  each  other  in  a  solemn  engagement,2  not  to  deal 
any  more  at  their  father's  shop,  until  this  unconstitutional  decree 
should  be  repealed,  which  they  one  and  all  declared  to  be  a  direct 
violation  of  the  Great  Paper. 

This  agreement  was  so  strictly  observed,  that  in  a  few  months 
the  clerks  and  apprentices  in  the  old  gentleman's  shop  began  to 
raise  a  terrible  outcry.  They  declared,  that  their  master's  trade 
was  declining  exceedingly,  and  that  his  wife  and  steward  would 
by  their  mischievous  machinations  ruin  the  whole  farm.  They 
sharpened  their  pens,  and  attacked  the  steward,  and  even  the  old 
lady  herself,  with  great  severity:  insomuch,  that  it  was  thought 
proper  to  withdraw  this  attempt  also,  upon  the  rights  and  liberties 
of  the  new  settlers.  One  part  only  of  the  decree  was  left  still  in 
force,  viz.  the  tax  upon  water-gruel.3 

Now  there  were  certain  men 4  in  the  old  farm,  who  had  obtained 
an  exclusive  right  of  selling  water-gruel.  Vast  quantities  of  this 
gruel  were  vended  amongst  the  new  settlers,  as  they  were  ex 
tremely  fond  of  it,  and  used  it  universally  in  their  families.  They 
did  not,  however,  trouble  themselves  much  about  the  tax  on 
water-gruel;  they  were  well  pleased  with  the  repeal  of  the 

1  Painter's  colours,  glass,  &c.  2  Non -importation  agreement, 

3  Tea.  *  The  India  company. 


FRANCIS  HOPKINSON  375 

other  parts  of  the  decree,  and  fond  as  they  were  of  this  gruel, 
they  considered  it  as  not  absolutely  necessary  to  the  comfort  of 
life,  and  determined  to  give  up  the  use  of  it  in  their  families, 
and  so  avoid  the  effects  of  that  part  of  the  decree. 

The  steward  found  his  designs  again  frustrated:  but  was  not 
discouraged  by  the  disappointment.  He  devised  another  scheme, 
so  artfully  contrived,  that  he  thought  himself  sure  of  success. 
He  sent  for  the  persons  who  had  the  sole  right  of  vending  water- 
gruel;  and  after  reminding  them  of  the  obligations  they  were  under 
to  the  nobleman  and  his  wife  for  the  exclusive  privilege  they  en 
joyed,  he  requested  that  they  would  send  sundry  waggons  laden 
with  gruel  to  the  new  farm ;  promising  that  the  accustomed  duty 
which  they  paid  for  their  exclusive  right  should  be  taken  off  from 
all  the  gruel  they  should  so  send  amongst  the  new  settlers;  and 
that  in  case  their  cargoes  should  come  to  any  damage,  the  loss 
should  be  made  good  to  them  out  of  his  master's  coffers. 

The  gruel-merchants  readily  consented  to  this  proposal;  con 
sidering  that  if  their  cargoes  were  sold,  their  profits  would  be 
very  great ;  and  if  they  failed,  the  steward  was  to  pay  the  damage. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  steward  hoped  that  the  new  settlers  would 
not  be  able  to  resist  a  temptation,  thus  thrown  in  their  way,  of 
purchasing  their  favourite  gruel,  to  which  they  had  been  so  long 
accustomed;  and  if  they  did  use  it,  subject  to  the  tax  aforesaid, 
he  would  consider  this  as  a  voluntary  acknowledgment  that  the 
nobleman  and  his  wife  had  a  right  to  lay  upon  them  what  imposi 
tions  they  pleased,  and  as  a  resignation  of  the  privileges  of  the 
Great  Paper. 

But  the  new  settlers  were  well  aware  of  this  decoy.  They  saw 
plainly  that  the  gruel  was  not  sent  for  their  accommodation;  and 
that  if  they  suffered  any  part  of  it  to  be  sold  amongst  them,  sub 
ject  to  the  tax  imposed  by  the  new  decree,  it  would  be  considered 
as  a  willing  submission  to  the  assumed  omnipotence  of  their  mother- 
in-law,  and  a  precedent  for  future  unlimited  impositions.  Some, 
therefore,  would  not  permit  the  waggons  to  be  unladen  at  all; 
but  sent  them  back  untouched  to  the  gruel-merchants ;  and  others 
suffered  them  to  unload,  but  would  not  touch  the  dangerous  com 
modity;  so  that  it  lay  neglected  about  the  roads  and  high-ways 
till  it  was  quite  spoiled.  But  one  of  the  new  settlers,  whose  name 


376  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

was  JACK,  either  from  a  keener  sense  of  the  injuries  intended,  or 
from  the  necessity  of  his  situation,  which  was  such  that  he  could 
not  send  back  the  gruel,  because  of  a  number  of  mercenaries  * 
whom  his  father  had  stationed  in  his  house  to  be  a  watch  over 
him  —  he,  I  say,  being  almost  driven  to  despair,  stove  2  to  pieces 
the  casks  of  gruel  which  had  been  sent  him,  and  utterly  destroyed 
the  whole  cargo. 

CHAP,  vi 

These  violent  proceedings  were  soon  known  at  the  old  farm. 
Great  was  the  uproar  there.  The  old  nobleman  fell  into  a  furious 
passion,  declaring  that  the  new  settlers  meant  to  throw  off  all 
dependence  upon  him,  and  rebel  against  his  authority.  His  wife 
also  tore  the  padlocks  from  her  lips,  and  raved  and  stormed  like 
a  Billingsgate,  and  the  steward  lost  all  patience  and  moderation 
—  swearing  most  profanely,  that  he  would  leave  no  stone  unturned 
till  he  had  humbled  the  settlers  of  the  new  farm  at  his  feet,  and 
caused  their  father  to  tread  upon  their  necks.  Moreover,  the  gruel- 
merchants  roared  and  bellowed  for  the  loss  of  their  gruel ;  and  the 
clerks  and  apprentices  were  in  the  utmost  consternation  lest  the 
people  of  the  new  farm  should  again  agree  to  have  no  dealings 
with  their  father's  shop. 

Vengeance  was  forthwith  prepared,  especially  against  Jack. 
With  him  they  determined  to  begin;  hoping  that  by  making  a 
severe  example  of  him,  they  should  so  terrify  the  other  families, 
that  they  would  all  submit  to  the  power  of  the  steward  and  ac 
knowledge  the  omnipotence  of  the  great  Madam. 

A  very  large  padlock3  was  sent  over  to  be  fastened  on  Jack's 
great  gate;  the  key  of  which  was  given  to  the  old  nobleman,who 
was  not  to  suffer  it  to  be  opened  until  Jack  had  paid  for  the  gruel 
he  had  spilt,  and  resigned  all  claim  to  the  privileges  of  the  Great 
Paper  —  nor  even  then,  unless  he  should  think  fit.  Secondly, 
a  decree  was  made  to  new  model  the  regulations  and  ceconomy 
of  Jack's  family,  in  such  manner  that  they  might  in  future  be  more 
subjected  to  the  will  of  the  steward.  And,  thirdly,  A  large  gallows 
was  erected  before  the  mansion-house  in  the  old  farm,  that  if  any 

1  Board  of  Commissioners.  2  Destruction  of  the  tea  at  Boston. 

8  The  Boston  Port-bill. 


FRANCIS  HOPKINSON  377 

of  Jack's  children  should  be  suspected  of  misbehaviour,  they 
should  not  be  convicted  or  acquitted  by  the  voice  of  their  brethren, 
according  to  the  purport  of  the  Great  Paper,  but  be  tied  neck  and 
heels,  and  sent  over  to  be  hanged  on  this  gallows. 

On  hearing  of  these  severities,  the  people  were  highly  enraged. 
They  were  at  a  loss  how  to  act,  or  by  what  means  they  should 
avoid  the  threatened  vengeance.  But  the  old  lady  and  the  steward 
persisted.  The  great  padlock  was  fastened  on  Jack's  gate,  and  the 
key  given  to  the  nobleman  as  had  been  determined  on;  without 
waiting  to  know  whether  Jack  would  pay  for  the  gruel,  or  allow 
ing  him  an  opportunity  to  make  any  apology  or  defence. 

Poor  Jack  was  now  in  a  deplorable  condition  indeed:  The 
great  inlet  to  his  farm  was  entirely  shut  up ;  so  that  he  could  neither 
carry  out  the  produce  of  his  land  for  sale,  nor  receive  from  abroad 
the  necessaries  for  his  family. 

But  this  was  not  all  —  The  old  nobleman,  along  with  the  pad 
lock  aforesaid,  had  sent  an  overseer  1  to  hector  and  domineer  over 
Jack  and  his  family,  and  to  endeavour  to  break  his  spirits  by 
every  possible  severity;  for  which  purpose,  this  overseer  was 
attended  by  a  great  number  of  mercenaries,  and  armed  with  more 
than  common  authorities. 

When  the  overseer  first  arrived  in  Jack's  family,  he  was  re 
ceived  with  great  respect,  because  he  was  the  delegate  of  their 
aged  father.  For,  notwithstanding  all  that  had  past,  the  people 
of  the  new  farm  loved  and  revered  the  old  nobleman  with  true 
filial  affection:  and  attributed  his  unkindness  entirely  to  the  in 
trigues  of  the  steward. 

But  this  fair  weather  did  not  last  long.  The  new  overseer 
took  the  first  opportunity  to  show  that  he  had  no  intention  of 
living  in  harmony  and  friendship  with  the  family  —  Some  of 
Jack's  domestics  had  put  on  their  Sunday  clothes,  and  waited  on 
the  overseer  in  the  great  parlour,  to  pay  him  their  compliments 
on  his  arrival ; 2  and  to  request  his  assistance  in  reconciling  their 
father  to  them,  and  restoring  peace  and  cordiality  between  the 
old  and  new  farms.  But  he,  in  a  most  abrupt  and  rude  manner, 
stopped  them  short  in  the  midst  of  their  address;  called  them  a 

1  General  Gage,  made  Governor  of  the  province. 

2  Address  to  General  Gage. 


378  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

parcel  of  disobedient  scoundrels ;  bid  them  go  about  their  busi 
ness;  and  turning  round  on  his  heel,  left  the  room  with  an  air  of 
contempt  and  disdain. 

CHAP,  vii 

The  people  of  the  new  farm  seeing  the  importance  of  their 
situation,  had  appointed  a  grand  committee,  consisting  of  some 
of  the  most  respectable  characters  from  each  family,  to  manage 
their  affairs  in  this  difficult  crisis.  Jack,  thus  oppressed  and 
insulted,  requested  the  advice  l  of  the  grand  committee  as  to  his 
conduct.  This  committee  in  their  answer,  sympathized  cordially 
with  him  in  his  afflictions  —  they  exhorted  him  to  bear  his  suffer 
ing  with  fortitude  for  a  time;  assuring  him,  that  they  looked  upon 
the  insults  and  punishments  inflicted  on  him  with  the  same  in 
dignation  as  if  they  had  been  inflicted  on  themselves ;  and  promised 
to  stand  by  and  support  him  to  the  last  —  They  recommended  it 
to  him  to  be  firm  and  steady  in  the  cause  of  liberty  and  their  just 
rights,  and  never  to  acknowledge  the  omnipotence  of  their  mother- 
in-law,  nor  submit  to  the  machinations  of  their  enemy  the  steward. 

In  the  mean  time,  lest  Jack's  family  should  suffer  for  want  of 
necessaries,  his  great  gate  being  fast  locked,  contributions  were 
raised  for  his  relief  amongst  the  other  families,2  and  handed  to  him 
over  the  garden  wall. 

The  new  overseer  still  persisted  in  his  hostile  behaviour,  taking 
every  opportunity  to  mortify  and  insult  Jack  and  his  family  — 
observing  that  some  of  the  children  and  domestics  held  frequent 
meetings  and  consultations  together,  sometimes  in  the  garret, 
and  sometimes  in  the  stable,  and  understanding  that  an  agree 
ment  not  to  deal  with  their  father's  shop,  until  their  grievances 
should  be  redressed,  was  again  talked  of,  he  wrote  a  thundering 
prohibition,3  much  like  a  pope's  bull,  which  he  caused  to  be  pasted 
up  in  every  room  of  the  house  —  In  which  he  declared  and  pro 
tested,  that  such  meetings  were  treasonable,  traitorous,  and  re 
bellious,  contrary  to  the  dignity  of  his  master,  the  nobleman,  and 
inconsistent  with  the  duty  they  owed  to  his  omnipotent  wife: 

1  Boston  consults  the  congress  of  the  states. 

2  Money  raised  by  the  states  for  the  relief  of  the  poor  of  Boston. 

3  Proclamation  at  Boston  forbidding  town  meetings. 


FRANCIS  HOPKINSON  379 

and  threatened  that  if  two  of  the  family  should  be  found  whisper 
ing  together,  they  should  be  sent  over  in  chains  to  the  old  farm, 
and  hanged  upon  the  great  gallows  before  the  mansion-house. 

These  harsh  and  unconstitutional  proceedings  of  the  overseer, 
so  highly  irritated  Jack,  and  the  other  families  of  the  new  farm, 
that  *  •*  *  #  *  * 

Cetera  desunt. 

THE  BATTLE   OF   THE   KEGS 

Gallants  attend  and  hear  a  friend 

Trill  forth  harmonious  ditty, 
Strange  things  I'll  tell  which  late  befel 

In  Philadelphia  city. 

'Twas  early  day,  as  poets  say, 

Just  when  the  sun  was  rising, 
A  soldier  stood  on  a  log  of  wood, 

And  saw  a  thing  surprising. 

As  in  amaze  he  stood  to  gaze, 

The  truth  can't  be  denied,  sir, 
He  spied  a  score  of  kegs  or  more 

Come  floating  down  the  tide,  sir. 

A  sailor  too  in  jerkin  blue, 

This  strange  appearance  viewing, 
First  damn'd  his  eyes,  in  great  surprise, 

Then  said  some  mischief's  brewing. 

These  kegs,  I'm  told,  the  rebels  bold, 

Pack'd  up  like  pickling  herring; 
And  they're  come  down  t'attack  the  town, 

In  this  new  way  of  ferrying. 

The  soldier  flew,  the  sailor  too, 

And  scar'd  almost  to  death,  sir, 
Wore  out  their  shoes,  to  spread  the  news, 

And  ran  till  out  of  breath,  sir. 


380  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

Now  up  and  down  throughout  the  town, 
Most  frantic  scenes  were  acted; 

And  some  ran  here,  and  others  there, 
Like  men  almost  distracted. 

Some  fire  cry'd,  which  some  denied, 
But  said  the  earth  had  quaked; 

And  girls  and  boys,  with  hideous  noise, 
Ran  through  the  streets  half  naked. 

Sir  William  he,  snug  as  a  flea, 
Lay  all  this  time  a  snoring, 
Nor  dreamed  of  harm  as  he  lay  warm, 


Now  in  a  fright,  he  starts  upright, 

Awak'd  by  such  a  clatter; 
He  rubs  both  eyes,  and  boldly  cries, 

For  God's  sake,  what's  the  matter? 

At  his  bed-side  he  then  espy'd, 
Sir  Erskine  at  command,  sir, 

Upon  one  foot,  he  had  one  boot, 
And  th'  other  in  his  hand,  sir. 

"Arise,  arise,  sir  Erskine  cries, 
"The  rebels  —  more's  the  pity, 

"Without  a  boat  are  all  afloat, 
"And  rang'd  before  the  city. 

"The  motley  crew,  in  vessels  new, 
"  With  Satan  for  their  guide,  sir. 

"Pack'd  up  in  bags,  or  wooden  kegs, 
"Come  driving  down  the  tide,  sir. 

"Therefore  prepare  for  bloody  war, 
"These  kegs  must  all  be  routed, 


FRANCIS  HOPKINSON  381 

"Or  surely  we  despised  shall  be, 
"And  British  courage  doubted." 

The  royal  band,  now  ready  stand 

All  rang'd  in  dread  array,  sir, 
With  stomach  stout  to  see  it  out, 

And  make  a  bloody  day,  sir. 

The  cannons  roar  from  shore  to  shore, 

The  small  arms  make  a  rattle; 
Since  wars  began  I'm  sure  no  man 

E'er  saw  so  strange  a  battle. 

The  rebel  dales,  the  rebel  vales, 

With  rebel  trees  surrounded; 
The  distant  wood,  the  hills  and  floods, 

With  rebel  echoes  sounded. 

The  fish  below  swam  to  and  fro, 

Attack'd  from  ev'ry  quarter; 
Why  sure,  thought  they,  the  devil's  to  pay, 

'Mongst  folks  above  the  water. 

The  kegs,  'tis  said,  tho'  strongly  made. 

Of  rebel  staves  and  hoops,  sir, 
Could  not  oppose  their  powerful  foes, 

The  conqu'ring  British  troops,  sir. 

From  morn  to  night  these  men  of  might 

Display'd  amazing  courage; 
And  when  the  sun  was  fairly  down, 

Retir'd  to  sup  their  porrage. 

An  hundred  men  with  each  a  pen, 

Or  more  upon  my  word,  sir. 
It  is  most  true  would  be  too  few, 

Their  valour  to  record,  sir. 


382  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

Such  feats  did  they  perform  that  day, 

Against  these  wick'd  kegs,  sir, 
That  years  to  come,  if  they  get  home, 

They'll  make  their  boasts  and  brags,  sir. 

N.B.  This  ballad  was  occasioned  by  a  real  incident.  Certain 
machines,  in  the  form  of  kegs,  charg'd  with  gun  powder,  were  sent  down 
the  river  to  annoy  the  British  shipping  then  at  Philadelphia.  The  danger 
of  these  machines  being  discovered,  the  British  manned  the  wharfs  and 
shipping,  and  discharged  their  small  arms  and  cannons  at  every  thing  they 
saw  floating  in  the  river  during  the  ebb  tide. 


AN  EPITAPH   FOR  AN  INFANT 

Sleep  on,  sweet  babe !  no  dreams  annoy  thy  rest, 
Thy  spirit  flew  unsullied  from  thy  breast: 
Sleep  on,  sweet  innocent !  nor  shalt  thou  dread 
The  passing  storm  that  thunders  o'er  thy  head: 
Thro'  the  bright  regions  of  yon  azure  sky, 
A  winged  seraph,  now  she  soars  on  high; 
Or,  on  the  bosom  of  a  cloud  reclin'd, 
She  rides  triumphant  on  the  rapid  wind; 
Or  from  its  source  pursues  the  radiant  day; 
Or  on  a  sun-beam,  smoothly  glides  away; 
Or  mounts  aerial,  to  her  blest  abode, 
And  sings,  inspir'd,  the  praises  of  her  God: 
Unveiled,  thence,  to  her  extensive  eye, 
Nature,  and  Nature's  Laws,  expanded  lie: 
Death,  in  one  moment,  taught  this  infant  more 
Than  years  or  ages  ever  taught  before. 


SONG  VI 

O'er  the  hills  far  away,  at  the  birth  of  the  morn 
I  hear  the  full  tone  of  the  sweet  sounding  horn; 
The  sportsmen  with  shoutings  all  hail  the  new  day 
And  swift  run  the  hounds  o'er  the  hills  far  away. 


FRANCIS  HOPKINSON  383 

Across  the  deep  valley  their  course  they  pursue 
And  rush  thro'  the  thickets  yet  silver'd  with  dew; 
Nor  hedges  nor  ditches  their  speed  can  delay  — 
Still  sounds  the  sweet  horn  o'er  hills  far  away. 

SONG  VII 


My  gen'rous  heart  disdains 
The  slave  of  love  to  be, 
I  scorn  his  servile  chains, 
And  boast  my  liberty. 
This  whining 
And  pining 

And  wasting  with  care, 
Are  not  to  my  taste,  be  she  ever  so  fair. 

n 

Shall  a  girl's  capricious  frown 
Sink  my  noble  spirits  down? 
Shall  a  face  of  white  and  red 
Make  me  droop  my  silly  head? 
Shall  I  set  me  down  and  sigh 
For  an  eye-brow  or  an  eye? 
For  a  braided  lock  of  hair, 
Curse  my  fortune  and  despair? 

My  gen'rous  heart  disdains,   &c. 

in 

Still  uncertain  is  tomorrow, 
Not  quite  certain  is  today  — 
Shall  I  waste  my  time  in  sorrow? 
Shall  I  languish  life  away? 
All  because  a  cruel  maid, 
Hath  not  Love  with  Love  repaid. 
My  gen'rous  heart  disdains,   &c. 


MERCY  OTIS  WARREN 

[Mercy  Otis  Warren  (1728-1814)  was  one  of  the  most  interesting  literary 
women  of  the  Revolutionary  time.  She  was  the  sister  of  James  Otis  and 
the  wife  of  James  Warren,  and  had  an  intimate  acquaintance  with  many  dis 
tinguished  patriot  families  besides  the  two  with  which  she  was  thus  con 
nected.  She  carried  on  an  extensive  correspondence  with  notable  men  and 
women,  and  seems  to  have  been  consulted,  or  at  least  taken  into  confidence, 
in  many  councils  regarding  political  matters.  The  greater  part  of  her  writ 
ings  are  political  or  have  an  indirect  political  bearing.  Among  her  earliest 
attempts  were  two  satires  in  dramatic  form,  "The  Adulator"  and  "The 
Group."  In  both  these  the  characters  were  recognizable  as  caricatures  of 
contemporaries.  Later,  she  wrote  two  formal  tragedies  in  blank  verse, 
"The  Sack  of  Rome  "  and  "The  Ladies  of  Castile."  These  have  no  direct 
reference  to  contemporary  events,  but  both  expound  the  idea  of  political 
liberty.  These  two  plays  and  a  few  other  poems,  some  of  them  occasional, 
make  up  a  volume  of  "Poems,  Dramatic  and  Miscellaneous,"  published  in 
1790.  In  1805  she  published  her  "History  of  the  Rise,  Progress  and  Ter 
mination  of  the  American  Revolution,  interspersed  with  Biographical, 
Political  and  Moral  Observations."  The  author's  wide  acquaintance  with 
political  leaders  had  given  her  a  first-hand  knowledge  of  many  facts,  and  the 
definiteness  of  her  beliefs  and  prejudices  makes  her  "observations"  interest 
ing  if  not  always  profitable. 

Mrs.  Warren  had  a  tendency  to  satirize,  with  the  kind  of  satire  that  is 
unrelieved  by  humor.  She  was  especially  famous  for  her  pen  pictures  of 
persons  that  she  had  known,  and  she  is  most  interesting  when  depicting  those 
of  whom  she  does  not  approve.  Some  strictures  on  John  Adams  near  the 
close  of  her  "History"  led  to  a  temporary  suspension  of  friendly  relations 
with  that  statesman,  and  to  the  exchange  of  some  very  pointed  letters,  which 
have  been  printed  in  the  Collections  of  the  Massachusetts  Historical  So 
ciety.  In  both  prose  and  verse  Mrs.  Warren  affected  a  formal  and  artificial 
style.  This  can  be  seen  in  her  personal  correspondence  as  well  as  her  writ 
ings  intended  for  publication.  She  signed  herself  "Philomela"  in  letters 
which  she  addressed  to  her  friend  Mrs.  Winthrop  as  "Narcissa,"  and  to  her 
friend  Mrs.  Adams  as  "Portia."  Even  her  letters  to  her  children  contain 
artificial  poetic  talk  about  "Strephon  and  Collin,"  etc.  This  sort  of  absurd 
ity  was  a  literary  disease  prevailing  at  the  time,  and  while  Mrs.  Warren  was 
by  nature  subject  to  it,  and  her  works  may  be  studied  for  a  knowledge  of 
the  symptoms,  the  importance  of  her  affectation  must  not  be  overrated. 

The  selections  follow  the  first  editions  of  "The  Group,"  the  "Poems, 
Dramatic  and  Miscellaneous,"  and  the  "History,"  published  in  Boston  in, 
1775?  J79°>  and  1805,  respectively.] 

384 


MERCY  OTIS  WARREN  385 

A  LOYALIST  DIALOGUE 

[From  "The  Group,"  Act  II,  Scene  III »] 

Simple  Sappling.    Though  my  paternal  Acres  are  eat  up, 
My  patrimony  spent,  I've  yet  an  house 
My  lenient  creditors  let  me  improve, 

Send  up  the  Troops,  'twill  serve  them  well  for  Barracks. 
I  some  how  think  'twould  bear  a  noble  sound, 
To  have  my  mansion  guarded  by  the  King. 

Sylla.     Hast  thou  no  sons  or  blooming  daughters  there, 
To  call  up  all  the  feelings  of  a  Father, 
Least  their  young  minds  contaminate  by  vice, 
Caught  from  such  inmates,  dangerous  and  vile, 
Devoid  of  virtue,  rectitude,  or  honour 
Save  what  accords  with  military  fame  ? 

Hast  thou  no  wife  who  asks  thy  tender  care, 
To  guard  her  from  Belona's  hardy  sons? 
Who  when  not  toiling  in  the  hostile  field 
Are  faithful  vot'ries  to  the  Cyprian  Queen. 
Or  is  her  soul  of  such  materials  made, 
Indelicate,  and  thoughtless  of  her  fame : 
So  void  of  either  sentiment  or  sense, 
As  makes  her  a  companion  fit  for  thee ! 

Simple  Sappling.   Silvia's  good  natur'd,  and  no  doubt  will  yield, 
And  take  the  brawny  vet'rans  to  her  board, 
When  she's  assur'd  'twill  help  her  husband's  fame. 

If  she  complains  or  murmurs  at  the  plan, 
Let  her  solicit  charity  abroad; 
Let  her  go  out  and  seek  some  pitying  friend 

f1  The  characters  in  this  satiric  drama  represent  well-known  British  sympa 
thizers.  "Sylla"  is  General  Gage;  "Brigadier  Hateall"  is  said  to  be  Timothy 
Ruggles;  " Simple  Sappling, "  Nathaniel  Ray  Thomas;  " Collateralis,  a  new  made 
judge,"  Brown.  The  stage  direction  for  this  scene  reads:  "The  fragments  of 
the  broken  Council  appear  with  trembling  servile  Gestures,  shewing  several  appli 
cations  to  the  General  from  the  Under-Tools  in  the  distant  Counties ;  begging  each  a 
.  guard  of  myrmidons  to  protect  them  from  the  armed  multitudes  (which  the  guilty 
horrors  of  their  wounded  consciences  hourly  presented  to  their  frightened  imagina 
tions')  approaching  to  take  speedy  vengeance  on  the  Court  Parasites,  who  had  fled 
for  refuge  to  the  Camp,  by  immediate  destruction  to  their  Pimps,  Panders  and 
Sycophants  left  behind."} 

ac 


386  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

To  give  her  shelter  from  the  wint'ry  blast, 
Disperse  her  children  round  the  neighb'ring  cots, 
And  then  

Publican. Then  weep  thy  folly  and  her  own  hard  fate ! 

I  pity  Silvia,  I  knew  the  beauteous  maid 
E'er  she  descended  to  become  thy  wife: 
She  silent  mourns  the  weakness  of  her  lord, 
For  she's  too  virtuous  to  approve  thy  deeds. 

Hateall.     Pho what's  a  woman's  tears, 

Or  all  the  whirlings  of  that  trifling  sex? 

I  never  felt  one  tender  thought  towards  them. 

When  young,  indeed,  I  wedded  nut  brown  Kate, 
(Blyth  bosom  Dowager,  the  jockey's  prey) 
But  all  I  wish'd  was  to  secure  her  dower. 
I  broke  her  spirits  when  I'd  won  her  purse; 
For  which  I'll  give  a  recipe  most  sure 
To  ev'ry  hen  peck'd  husband  round  the  board; 
If  crabbed  words  or  surly  looks  won't  tame 
The  haughty  strew  [shrew?]  nor  bend  the  stubborn  mind, 
Then  the  green  Hick'ry,  or  the  willow  twig, 
Will  prove  a  curse  for  each  rebellious  dame 
Who  dare  oppose  her  lord's  superior  will. 

Sylla.     Enough  of  this,  ten  thousand  harrowing  cares 
Tear  up  my  peace,  and  swell  my  anxious  breast. 

I  see  some  mighty  victim  must  appease 
An  injured  nation,  tott'ring  on  the  verge 
Of  wide  destruction,  made  the  wanton  sport 
Of  hungry  Harpies,  gaping  for  their  prey; 
Which  if  by  misadventures  they  should  miss, 
The  disappointed  vultures  angry  fang, 
Will  sieze  the  lesser  gudgeons  of  the  state, 
And  sacrifice  to  mad  Alecto's  rage ; 
Lest  the  tide  turning,  with  a  rapid  course 
The  booming  torrent  rushes  o'er  their  heads, 
And  sweeps  the  "cawing  cormorants  from  earth." 

Hateall.     Then  strike  some  sudden  blow,  and  if  hereafter 

Dangers  should  rise  then  set  up  for  thyself, 

And  make  thy  name  as  famous  in  Columbia, 


MERCY   OTIS  WARREN  387 

As  ever  Caesar's  was  in  ancient  Gaul. 
Who  would  such  distant  Provinces  subdue, 
And  then  resign  them  to  a  foreign  lord ! 
With  such  an  armament  at  thy  command 
Why  all  this  cautious  prudence? 

Sylla.     I  only  wish  to  serve  my  Sovereign  well, 
And  bring  new  glory  to  my  master's  crown. 
Which  can't  be  done  by  spreading  ruin  round 

This  loyal  country 

Wro't  up  to  madness  by  oppression's  hand. 

How  much  deceiv'd  my  royal  master  is 

By  those  he  trusts !  —  but  more  of  this  anon. 

Were  it  consistent  with  my  former  plan, 
I'd  gladly  send  my  sickly  troops  abroad 
Out  from  the  stench  of  this  infected  town, 
To  breath  some  air  more  free  from  putrefaction; 
To  brace  their  nerves  against  approaching  spring, 
If  my  ill  stars  should  destine  a  campaign, 
And  call  me  forth  to  fight  in  such  a  cause. 

To  quench  the  gen'rous  spark,  the  innate  love 
Of  glorious  freedom,  planted  in  the  breast 
Of  ev'ry  man  who  boasts  a  Briton's  name, 
Until  some  base  born  lust  of  foreign  growth 
Contaminate  his  soul,  till  false  ambition, 
Or  the  sordid  hope  of  swelling  coffers, 
Poison  the  mind,  and  brutalize  the  man. 

Collateralis.     I  almost  wish  I  never  had  engag'd 
To  rob  my  country  of  her  native  rights, 
Nor  strove  to  mount  on  justice  solemn  bench, 
By  mean  submission  cringing  for  a  place. 

How  great  the  pain,  and  yet  how  small  the  purcJmse! 
Had  I  been  dumb,  or  my  right  hand  cut  off, 
E'er  I  so  servilely  had  held  it  up, 
Or  giv'n  my  voice  abjectly  to  rescind 
The  wisest  step  that  mortal  man  could  take 
To  curb  the  tallons  of  tyrannic  power, 
Out  stretch'd  rapacious  ready  to  devour 
The  fair  possessions,  by  our  Maker  giv'n 


388  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

Confirmed  by  compacts  —  ratify'd  by  Heav'n. 

Sylla.     Look  o'er  the  annals  of  our  virtuous  sires, 
And  search  the  story  of  Britannia's  deeds, 
From  Caesar's  ravages  to  Hambden's  fall; 
From  the  good  Hambden  down  to  glorious  Wolfe, 
Whose  soul  took  wing  on  Abrahams  fatal  plain, 
Where  the  young  Hero  fought  Britannia's  foes, 
And  vanquish'd  Bourbons  dark  ferocious  hosts, 
Till  the  slaves  trembled  at  a  George's  name. 

'Twas  love  of  freedom  drew  a  Marlboro ugh's  sword; 
This  glorious  passion  mov'd  a  Sydney's  pen; 
And  crown'd  with  Bayes  a  Harrington  and  Locke; 
'Tis  freedom  wreathes  the  Garlands  o'er  their  tombs. 

For  her  how  oft  have  bleeding  Heroes  fall'n ! 
With  the  warm  fluid,  gushing  from  their  wounds, 
Convey'd  the  purchase  to  their  distant  heirs ! 

And  shall  I  rashly  draw  my  guilty  sword, 
And  dip  its  hungry  hilt  in  the  rich  blood 
Of  the  best  subjects  that  a  Brunswick  boasts, 
And  for  no  cause,  but  that  they  nobly  scorn 
To  wear  the  fetters  of  his  venal  slaves ! 

But  swift  time  rolls,  and  on  his  rapid  wheel 
Bears  the  winged  hours,  and  the  circling  years. 

The  cloud  cap'd  morn,  the  dark  short  wintry  day, 
And  the  keen  blasts  of  roughned  Borea's  breath, 
Will  soon  evanish,  and  approaching  spring 
Opes  with  the  fate  of  empires  on  her  wing.  Exit  Sylla. 


THE  NECESSARIES   OF  LIFE 

[From  a  poem  "To  the  Hon.  J.  Winthrop,  Esq.  Who,  on  the  American 

Determination,  in  1774,  to  suspend  all  Commerce  with  Britain,  (except 

for  the  real  Necessaries  of  life)  requested  a  poetical  List  of  the  Articles 

the  Ladies  might  comprise  under  that  Head  "  ] 

But  if  ye  doubt,  an  inventory  clear, 
Of  all  she  needs,  Lamira  offers  here; 
Nor  does  she  fear  a  rigid  Cato's  frown, 
When  she  lays  by  the  rich  embroider'd  gown, 


MERCY  OTIS   WARREN  389 

And  modestly  compounds  for  just  enough  — 

Perhaps,  some  dozens  of  more  slighty  stuff; 

With  lawns  and  lustrings  —  blond,  and  mecklin  laces, 

Fringes  and  jewels,  fans  and  tweezer  cases ; 

Gay  cloaks  and  hats,  of  every  shape  and  size, 

Scarfs,  cardinals,  and  ribbons  of  all  dyes; 

With  ruffles  stamp'd,  and  aprons  of  tambour, 

Tippets  and  handkerchiefs,  at  least,  three  score; 

With  finest  muslins  that  fair  India  boasts, 

And  the  choice  herbage  from  Chinesan  coasts; 

(But  while  the  fragrant  hyson  leaf  regales, 

\Vho'll  wear  the  homespun  produce  of  the  vales? 

For  if  'twould  save  the  nation  from  the  curse 

Of  standing  troops;   or,  name  a  plague  still  worse, 

Few  can  this  choice  delicious  draught  give  up, 

Though  all  Medea's  poisons  fill  the  cup.) 

Add  feathers,  furs,  rich  sattins,  and  ducapes, 

And  head  dresses  in  pyramidial  shapes; 

Side  boards  of  plate,  and  porcelain  profuse, 

With  fifty  ditto's  that  the  ladies  use; 

If  my  poor  treach'rous  memory  has  miss'd, 

Ingenious  T 1,  shall  complete  the  list. 

So  weak  Lamira,  and  her  wants  so  few, 

Who  shall  refuse  ?  —  they're  but  the  sex's  due. 

THE  BOSTON  TEA  PARTY 

[From  the  "  History  of  the  Rise,  Progress  and  Termination  of  the  American 

Revolution  "] 

The  storage  or  detention  of  a  few  cargoes  of  teas  is  not  an  object 
in  itself  sufficient  to  justify  a  detail  of  several  pages ;  but  as  the 
subsequent  severities  towards  the  Massachusetts  were  grounded 
on  what  the  ministry  termed  their  refractory  beliaviour  on  this  oc 
casion  ;  and  as  those  measures  were  followed  by  consequences  of 
the  highest  magnitude  both  to  Great  Britain  and  the  colonies,  a 
particular  narration  of  the  transactions  of  the  town  of  Boston  is 
indispensable.  There  the  sword  of  civil  discord  was  first  drawn, 
which  was  riot  re-sheathed  until  the  emancipation  of  the  thirteen 


390  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

colonies  from  the  yoke  of  foreign  domination  was  acknowledged 
by  the  diplomatic  seals  of  the  first  powers  in  Europe.  This  may 
apologize,  if  necessary,  for  the  appearance  of  locality  in  the  pre 
ceding  pages,  and  for  its  farther  continuance  in  regard  to  a  colony, 
on  which  the  bitterest  cup  of  ministerial  wrath  was  poured  for  a 
time,  and  where  the  energies  of  the  human  mind  were  earlier  called 
forth,  than  in  several  of  the  sister  states. 

Not  intimidated  by  the  frowns  of  greatness,  nor  allured  by  the 
smiles  of  intrigue,  the  vigilance  of  the  people  was  equal  to  the  im 
portance  of  the  event.  Though  expectation  was  equally  awake 
in  both  parties,  yet  three  or  four  weeks  elapsed  in  a  kind  of  inertia; 
the  one  side  flattered  themselves  with  hopes,  that  as  the  ships  were 
suffered  to  be  so  long  unmolested,  with  their  cargoes  entire,  the 
point  might  yet  be  obtained;  the  other  thought  it  possible,  that 
some  impression  might  yet  be  made  on  the  governor,  by  the  strong 
voice  of  the  people. 

Amidst  this  suspense  a  rumour  was  circulated,  that  admiral 
Montague  was  about  to  seize  the  ships,  and  dispose  of  their  cargoes 
at  public  auction,  within  twenty-four  hours.  This  step  would  as 
effectually  have  secured  the  duties,  as  if  sold  at  the  shops  of  the 
consignees,  and  was  judged  to  be  only  a  finesse,  to  place  them 
there  on  their  own  terms.  On  this  report,  convinced  of  the  neces 
sity  of  preventing  so  bold  an  attempt,  a  vast  body  of  people  con 
vened  suddenly  and  repaired  to  one  of  the  largest  and  most  com 
modious  churches  in  Boston;  where,  previous  to  any  other  steps, 
many  fruitless  messages  were  sent  both  to  the  governor  and  the 
consignees,  whose  timidity  had  prompted  them  to  a  seclusion  from 
the  public  eye.  Yet  they  continued  to  refuse  any  satisfactory 
answer;  and  while  the  assembled  multitude  were  in  quiet  con 
sultation  on  the  safest  mode  to  prevent  the  sale  and  consumption 
of  an  herb,  noxious  at  least  to  the  political  constitution,  the  de 
bates  were  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  the  sheriff  with  an  order 
from  the  governor,  styling  them  an  illegal  assembly,  and  directing 
their  immediate  dispersion. 

This  authoritative  mandate  was  treated  with  great  contempt, 
and  the  sheriff  instantly  hissed  out  of  the  house.  A  confused 
murmur  ensued,  both  within  and  without  the  walls ;  but  in  a  few 
moments  all  was  again  quiet,  and  the  leaders  of  the  people  returned 


MERCY   OTIS  WARREN  391 

calmly  to  the  point  in  question.  Yet  every  expedient  seemed 
fraught  with  insurmountable  difficulties,  and  evening  approaching 
without  any  decided  resolutions,  the  meeting  was  adjourned  with 
out  day. 

Within  an  hour  after  this  was  known  abroad,  there  appeared  a 
great  number  of  persons,  clad  like  the  aborigines  of  the  wilderness, 
with  tomahawks  in  their  hands,  and  clubs  on  their  shoulders, 
who  without  the  least  molestation  marched  through  the  streets 
with  silent  solemnity,  and  amidst  innumerable  spectators,  pro 
ceeded  to  the  wharves,  boarded  the  ships,  demanded  the  keys, 
and  with  much  deliberation  knocked  open  the  chests,  and  emptied 
several  thousand  weight  of  the  finest  teas  into  the  ocean.  No 
opposition  was  made,  though  surrounded  by  the  king's  ships; 
all  was  silence  and  dismay. 

This  done,  the  procession  returned  through  the  town  in  the  same 
order  and  solemnity  as  observed  in  the  outset  of  their  attempt. 
No  other  disorder  took  place,  and  it  wras  observed,  the  stillest 
night  ensued  that  Boston  had  enjoyed  for  many  months.  This 
unexpected  event  struck  the  ministerial  party  with  rage  and  aston 
ishment  ;  while,  as  it  seemed  to  be  an  attack  upon  private  property, 
many  who  wished  well  to  the  public  cause  could  not  fully  approve 
of  the  measure.  Yet  perhaps  the  laws  of  self-preservation  might 
justify  the  deed,  as  the  exigencies  of  the  times  required  extraordi 
nary  exertions,  and  every  other  method  had  been  tried  in  vain, 
to  avoid  this  disagreeable  alternative.  Besides  it  was  alleged, 
and  doubtless  it  was  true,  the  people  were  ready  to  make  ample 
compensation  for  all  damages  sustained,  whenever  the  uncon 
stitutional  duty  should  be  taken  off,  and  other  grievances  radically 
redressed.  But  there  appeared  little  prospect  that  any  concilia 
tory  advances  would  soon  be  made.  The  officers  of  government 
discovered  themselves  more  vindictive  than  ever:  animosities 
daily  increased,  and  the  spirits  of  the  people  were  irritated  to  a 
degree  of  alienation,  even  from  their  tenderest  connexions,  when 
they  happened  to  differ  in  political  opinion. 


392  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 


THE    CHARACTER    OF    WASHINGTON 

[From  the  "History  of  the  Rise,  Progress  and  Termination  of  the  American 

Revolution"] 

Mr.  Washington  was  a  gentleman  of  family  and  fortune,  of  a 
polite,  but  not  a  learned  education;  he  appeared  to  possess  a 
coolness  of  temper,  and  a  degree  of  moderation  and  judgment,  that 
qualified  him  for  the  elevated  station  in  which  he  was  now  placed; 
with  some  considerable  knowledge  of  mankind,  he  supported  the 
reserve  of  the  statesman,  with  the  occasional  affability  of  the 
courtier.  In  his  character  was  blended  a  certain  dignity,  united 
with  the  appearance  of  good  humour ;  he  possessed  courage  with 
out  rashness,  patriotism  and  zeal  without  acrimony,  and  retained 
with  universal  applause  the  first  military  command,  until  the 
establishment  of  independence.  Through  the  various  changes  of 
fortune  in  the  subsequent  conflict,  though  the  slowness  of  his 
movements  was  censured  by  some,  his  character  suffered  little 
diminution  to  the  conclusion  of  a  war,  that  from  the  extraordinaiy 
exigencies  of  an  infant  republic,  required  at  times,  the  caution  of 
Fabius,  the  energy  of  Caesar,  and  the  happy  facility  of  expedient 
in  distress,  so  remarkable  in  the  military  operations  of  the  illus 
trious  Frederick.1  With  the  first  of  these  qualities,  he  was  en 
dowed  by  nature;  the  second  was  awakened  by  necessity;  and 
the  third  he  acquired  by  experience  in  the  field  of  glory  and 
danger,  which  extended  his  fame  through  half  the  globe. 

In  the  late  war  between  England  and  France,  Mr.  Washington 
had  been  in  several  military  rencounters,  and  had  particularly 
signalized  himself  in  the  unfortunate  expedition  under  general 
Braddock,  in  the  wilderness  on  the  borders  of  the  Ohio,  in  the  year 
one  thousand  seven  hundred  and  fifty-five.  His  conduct  on  that 
occasion  raised  an  eclat  of  his  valor  and  prudence ;  in  consequence 
of  which  many  young  gentlemen  from  all  parts  of  the  continent, 
allured  by  the  name  of  major  Washington,  voluntarily  entered  the 
service,  proud  of  being  enrolled  in  the  list  of  officers  under  one 
esteemed  so  gallant  a  commander. 

1  The  late  king  of  Prussia,  well  known  for  this  trait  in  his  character,  by  all  who 
are  acquainted  with  the  history  of  his  reign. 


MERCY  OTIS  WARREN  393 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  GENERAL  LEE 

[From  the  "History  of  the  Rise,  Progress  and  Termination  of  the  American 

Revolution"] 

No  man  was  better  qualified  at  this  early  stage  of  the  war,  to 
penetrate  the  designs,  or  to  face  in  the  field  an  experienced  British 
veteran,  than  general  Lee.  He  had  been  an  officer  of  character 
and  rank  in  the  late  war  between  England  and  France.1  Fearless 
of  danger,  and  fond  of  glory,  he  was  calculated  for  the  field,  with 
out  any  of  the  graces  that  recommend  the  soldier  to  the  circles  of 
the  polite.  He  was  plain  in  his  person  even  to  ugliness,  and  care 
less  in  his  manners  to  a  degree  of  rudeness.  He  possessed  a  bold 
genius  and  an  unconquerable  spirit :  his  voice  was  rough,  his  garb 
ordinary,  his  deportment  morose.  A  considerable  traveller,  and 
well  acquainted  with  most  of  the  European  nations,  he  was  fre 
quently  agreeable  in  narration,  and  judicious  and  entertaining  in 
observation.  Disgusted  with  the  ministerial  system,  and  more  so 
with  his  sovereign  who  authorized  it,  he  cherished  the  American 
cause  from  motives  of  resentment,  and  a  predilection  in  favor 
of  freedom,  more  than  from  a  just  sense  of  the  rights  of 
mankind. 

Without  religion  or  country,  principle,  or  attachment,  gold  was 
his  deity,  and  liberty  the  idol  of  his  fancy :  he  hoarded  the  former 
without  taste  for  its  enjoyment,  and  worshipped  the  latter  as  the 
patroness  of  licentiousness,  rather  than  the  protectress  of  virtue. 
He  affected  to  despise  the  opinion  of  the  world,  yet  was  fond  of 
applause.  Ambitious  of  fame  without  the  dignity  to  support  it, 
he  emulated  the  heroes  of  antiquity  in  the  field,  while  in  private 
life  he  sunk  into  the  vulgarity  of  the  clown.  Congress  did  wisely 
to  avail  themselves  of  his  military  experience  in  the  infancy  of  a 
confederated  army,  and  still  more  wisely  in  placing  him  in  a  degree 
of  subordination.  He  was  on  the  first  list  of  continental  officers, 
and  only  the  generals  Washington  and  Ward  were  named  before 
him ;  but  though  nominally  the  third  in  rank,  as  a  soldier  he  was 
second  to  no  man.  The  abilities  of  general  WTard  were  better 

1  He  had  served  with  reputation  in  Portugal,  under  the  command  of  the  count 
de  la  Lippe. 


394  EARLY  AMERICAN  WRITERS 

adapted  to  the  more  quiet  disquisitions  of  the  cabinet,  that  on 
[than  to  ?]  the  hostile  and  dangerous  scenes  of  the  field  or  the  camp, 
both  which  he  soon  left  and  retired  to  private  life,  when  nothing 
remained  to  prevent  this  singular  stranger  from  taking  the 
command  of  the  armies  of  the  United  States,  but  the  life  of 
Washington. 


JOHN    TRUMBULL 

[John  Trumbull  was  perhaps  the  most  representative  of  the  so-called 
"Hartford  Wits,"  a  group  of  Connecticut  men  who  were  associated  in  liter 
ary  work  during  and  just  after  the  Revolution.  Before  the  outbreak  of  serious 
political  trouble  the  colonists  had  reached  a  point  where  many  young  men, 
in  college  and  just  out  of  college,  were  interesting  themselves  in  what  they 
called  belles  lettres,  and  attempting  writings  in  prose  and  verse  after  the 
models  of  the  most  approved  English  authors.  A  little  later  these  men, 
almost  without  exception,  wrote  on  political  subjects.  John  Trumbull  may 
be  taken  as  a  type  of  this  class.  He  was  born  in  1750,  of  a  distinguished 
Connecticut  family.  He  was  remarkably  precocious,  and,  according  to 
a  well-known  story,  passed  with  credit  the  examinations  for  admission  to 
Yale  College  when  but  seven  years  old.  Before  he  actually  entered  Yale,  at 
the  age  of  thirteen,  he  had  read  most  of  the  classic  authors  studied  in  that 
institution,  and  accordingly  had  much  time  for  subjects  not  in  the  regular 
curriculum.  He  was  especially  interested  in  English  literature,  and  when 
later  he  became  a  tutor,  he  worked  for  the  introduction  of  this  study  and 
English  composition  into  the  college  course.  In  1769,  while  still  a  student 
for  the  Master's  degree,  he  was  the  chief  author  of  "The  Medler,"  a  series 
of  essays  modelled  on  "The  Spectator."  This  was  followed  by  a  similar 
series,  "The  Correspondent."  About  the  same  time  he  wrote  verses  plainly 
reminiscent  of  Milton,  Pope,  Goldsmith,  and  other  English  poets.  In  1772, 
while  a  tutor  at  Yale,  he  published  the  first  part  of  "The  Progress  of  Dul- 
ness,"  a  Hudibrastic  satire  in  three  cantos,  in  which  he  ridiculed  the  exist 
ing  methods  of  education,  and  argued  for  a  college  course  devoted  less  ex 
clusively  to  Latin  and  Greek.  In  1773  he  became  a  student  in  the  law  office 
of  John  Adams  at  Boston,  and  naturally  acquired  an  intense  interest  in 
political  affairs.  In  1774  he  published  an  "Elegy  on  the  Times,"  and  in 
January,  I776,1  the  first  part  of  "McFingal." 

"McFingal,"  TrumbulPs  most  important  work,  and  the  most  famous 
political  satire  of  the  Revolution,  is  a  mock-heroic  poem  in  the  Hudibrastic 
metre.  Most  readers  see  chiefly  the  influence  of  Butler,  though  Professor 
Moses  Coit  Tyler  considered  that  the  author's  model  was  the  eighteenth- 
century  satirist  Churchill.  The  part  of  the  poem  which  was  published  in 
1776,  and  which  was  an  effective  political  document  during  the  years  of 
conflict,  was  later  divided  into  two  cantos,  and  supplemented  by  two  more 
cantos,  written  in  1782. 

After  the  war  Trumbull  was  associated  with  other  Hartford  wits  in  the 

1  The  imprint  of  the  first  edition  is  Philadelphia,  1775. 
395 


396  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

production  of  satires  supporting  the  Federalists.  In  1820  he  issued  a  col 
lected  edition  of  his  poetical  works,  the  text  of  which  is,  with  the  omission 
of  a  few  footnotes,  followed  in  the  selections  here  given.  He  held  various 
political  offices  in  Connecticut,  and  in  1825  removed  to  Detroit,  Mich., 
where  he  died  in  1831.] 

INVOCATION   TO    SLEEP 
[From  "Ode  to  Sleep"] 

I 

Come,  gentle  Sleep ! 

Balm  of  my  wounds  and  softner  of  my  woes, 
And  lull  my  weary  heart  in  sweet  repose, 
And  bid  my  sadden'd  soul  forget  to  weep, 
And  close  the  tearful  eye; 
While  dewy  eve  with  solemn  sweep, 
Hath  drawn  her  fleecy  mantle  o'er  the  sky, 
And  chaced  afar,  adown  th'  ethereal  way, 
The  din  of  bustling  care  and  gaudy  eye  of  day. 

ii 

Come,  but  thy  leaden  sceptre  leave, 

Thy  opiate  rod,  thy  poppies  pale, 
Dipp'd  in  the  torpid  fount  of  Lethe's  stream, 

That  shroud  with  night  each  intellectual  beam, 
And  quench  th'  immortal  fire,  in  deep  Oblivion's  wave. 

Yet  draw  the  thick  impervious  veil 

O'er  all  the  scenes  of  tasted  woe; 

Command  each  cypress  shade  to  flee; 

Between  this  toil-worn  world  and  me, 
Display  thy  curtain  broad,  and  hide  the  realms  below. 

m 

Descend,  and  graceful  in  thy  hand, 
With  thee  bring  thy  magic  wand, 
And  thy  pencil,  taught  to  glow 
In  all  the  hues  of  Iris'  bow. 
And  call  thy  bright,  aerial  train, 


JOHN   TRUMBULL  397 

Each  fairy  form  and  visionary  shade, 

That  in  the  Elysian  land  of  dreams, 

The  flower-enwoven  banks  along, 
Or  bowery  maze,  that  shades  the  purple  streams, 
Where  gales  of  fragrance  breathe  th'  enamour'd  song, 

In  more  than  mortal  charms  array'd, 
People  the  airy  vales  and  revel  in  thy  reign. 

IV 

But  drive  afar  the  haggard  crew, 
That  haunt  the  guilt-encrimson'd  bed, 

Or  dim  before  the  frenzied  view 
Stalk  with  slow  and  sullen  tread; 

While  furies  with  infernal  glare, 
Wave  their  pale  torches  through  the  troubled  air: 

And  deep  from  Darkness'  inmost  womb, 
Sad  groans  dispart  the  icy  tomb, 

And  bid  the  sheeted  spectre  rise, 
Mid  shrieks  and  fiery  shapes  and  deadly  fantasies. 


Come  and  loose  the  mortal  chain, 

That  binds  to  clogs  of  clay  th'  ethereal  wing; 
And  give  th'  astonish 'd  soul  to  rove, 
Where  never  sunbeam  stretch'd  its  wide  domain; 
And  hail  her  kindred  forms  above, 

In  fields  of  uncreated  spring, 
Aloft  \vhere  realms  of  endless  glory  rise, 
And  rapture  paints  in  gold  the  landscape  of  the  skies. 

TOM    BRAINLESS    AT    COLLEGE 
[From  "The  Progress  of  Dulness,"  Part  I] 

Two  years  thus  spent  in  gathering  knowledge, 
The  lad  sets  forth  t' unlade  at  college, 
While  down  his  sire  and  priest  attend  him, 
To  introduce  and  recommend  him; 


398  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

Or  if  detain'd,  a  letter's  sent 
Of  much  apocryphal  content, 
To  set  him  forth,  how  dull  soever, 
As  very  learn'd  and  very  clever; 
A  genius  of  the  first  emission, 
With  burning  love  for  erudition ; 
So  studious  he'll  outwatch  the  moon 
And  think  the  planets  set  too  soon. 
He  had  but  little  time  to  fit  in; 
Examination  too  must  frighten. 
Depend  upon't  he  must  do  well, 
He  knows  much  more  than  he  can  tell; 
Admit  him,  and  in  little  space 
He'll  beat  his  rivals  in  the  race; 
His  father's  incomes  are  but  small, 
He  comes  now,  if  he  come  at  all. 
So  said,  so  done,  at  college  now 
He  enters  well,  no  matter  how; 
New  scenes  awhile  his  fancy  please, 
But  all  must  yield  to  love  of  ease. 
In  the  same  round  condemn'd  each  day, 
To  study,  read,  recite  and  pray; 
To  rrfake  his  hours  of  business  double  — 
He  can't  endure  th'  increasing  trouble; 
And  finds  at  length,  as  times  grow  pressing, 
All  plagues  are  easier  than  his  lesson. 
With  sleepy  eyes  and  count'nance  heavy, 
,.  With  much  excuse  of  non  paravi.1 
Much  absence,  tardes  and  egresses, 
The  college-evil  on  him  seizes. 
Then  ev'ry  book,  which  ought  to  please, 
Stirs  up  the  seeds  of  dire  disease; 
Greek  spoils  his  eyes,  the  print's  so  fine, 
Grown  dim  with  study,  or  with  wine; 
Of  Tully's  latin  much  afraid, 

1  Non  paravi,  I  have  not  prepared  for  recitation  —  an  excuse  commonly  given ; 
tardes  and  egresses  were  terms  used  at  college,  for  coming  in  late  and  going  out 
before  the  conclusion  of  service. 


JOHN   T  RUM  BULL  399 

Each  page,  he  calls  the  doctor's  aid; 

While  geometry,  with  lines  so  crooked, 

Sprains  all  his  wits  to  overlook  it. 

His  sickness  puts  on  every  name, 

Its  cause  and  uses  still  the  same; 

'Tis  tooth-ache,  cholic,  gout  or  stone, 

With  phases  various  as  the  moon; 

But  though  through  all  the  body  spread, 

Still  makes  its  cap'tal  seat,  the  head. 

In  all  diseases,  'tis  expected, 

The  weakest  parts  be  most  infected. 

Kind  head-ache  hail !  thou  blest  disease, 
The  friend  of  idleness  and  ease; 
Who  mid  the  still  and  dreary  bound 
Where  college  walls  her  sons  surround, 
In  spite  of  fears,  in  justice'  spite, 
Assumest  o'er  laws  dispensing  right, 
Sett'st  from  his  task  the  blunderer  free, 
Excused  by  dulness  and  by  thee. 
Thy  vot'ries  bid  a  bold  defiance 
To  all  the  calls  and  threats  of  science, 
Slight  learning  human  and  divine, 
And  hear  no  prayers,  and  fear  no  fine. 

And  yet  how  oft  the  studious  gain, 
The  dulness  of  a  letter'd  brain; 
Despising  such  low  things  the  while, 
As  English  grammar,  phrase  and  style; 
Despising  ev'ry  nicer  art, 
That  aids  the  tongue,  or  mends  the  heart; 
Read  ancient  authors  o'er  in  vain, 
Nor  taste  one  beauty  they  contain; 
Humbly  on  trust  accept  the  sense, 
But  deal  for  words  at  vast  expense; 
Search  well  how  every  term  must  vary 
From  Lexicon  to  Dictionary; 
And  plodding  on  in  one  dull  tone, 
Gain  ancient  tongues  and  lose  their  own, 
Bid  every  graceful  charm  defiance, 


4OO 


EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

And  woo  the  skeleton  of  science. 

Come  ye,  who  finer  arts  despise, 
And  scoff  at  verse  as  heathen  lies; 
In  all  the  pride  of  dulness  rage 
At  Pope,  or  Milton's  deathless  page; 
Or  stung  by  truth's  deep-searching  line, 
Rave  ev'n  at  rhymes  as  low  as  mine; 
Say  ye,  who  boast  the  name  of  wise, 
Wherein  substantial  learning  lies. 
Is  it,  superb  in  classic  lore, 
To  speak  what  Homer  spoke  before, 
To  write  the  language  Tully  wrote, 
The  style,  the  cadence  and  the  note? 
Is  there  a  charm  in  sounds  of  Greek, 
No  language  else  can  learn  to  speak; 
That  cures  distemper'd  brains  at  once, 
Like  Pliny's  rhymes  for  broken  bones? 
Is  there  a  spirit  found  in  Latin, 
That  must  evap'rate  in  translating? 
And  say  are  sense  and  genius  bound 
To  any  vehicles  of  sound? 
Can  knowledge  never  reach  the  brains, 
Unless  convey'd  in  ancient  strains? 
While  Homer  sets  before  your  eyes 
Achilles'  rage,  Ulysses'  lies, 
Th'  armours  of  Jove  in  masquerade, 
And  Mars  entrapp'd  by  Phoebus'  aid; 
While  Virgil  sings,  in  verses  grave, 
His  lovers  meeting  in  a  cave, 
His  ships  turn'd  nymphs,  in  pagan  fables, 
And  how  the  Trojans  eat  their  tables; 
While  half  this  learning  but  displays 
The  follies  of  the  former  days; 
And  for  our  linguists,  fairly  try  them, 
A  tutor'd  parrot  might  defy  them. 

Go  to  the  vulgar  —  'tis  decreed, 
There  you  must  preach  and  write  or  plead; 
Broach  every  curious  Latin  phrase 


JOHN   TRUMBULL  401 

From  Tully  down  to  Lily's  days: 

All  this  your  hearers  have  no  share  in, 

Bate  but  their  laughing  and  their  staring. 

Interpreters  must  pass  between, 

To  let  them  know  a  word  you  mean. 

Yet  could  you  reach  that  lofty  tongue 
Which  Plato  wrote  and  Homer  sung; 
Or  ape  the  Latin  verse  and  scanning, 
Like  Vida,  Cowley  or  Buchanan; 
Or  bear  ten  phrase-books  in  your  head; 
Yet  know,  these  languages  are  dead, 
And  nothing,  e'er,  by  death,  was  seen 
Improved  in  beauty,  strength  or  mien, 
Whether  the  sexton  use  his  spade, 
Or  sorcerer  wake  the  parted  shade. 
Think  how  would  Tully  stare  or  smile 
At  these  wan  spectres  of  his  style, 
Or  Horace  in  his  jovial  way 
Ask  what  these  babblers  mean  to  say. 


M'FINGAL'S  ACCOMPLISHMENTS 

[From  "McFingal,"  Canto  I] 

No  ancient  sybil,  famed  in  rhyme, 
Saw  deeper  in  the  womb  of  time; 
No  block  in  old  Dodona's  grove 
Could  ever  more  orac'lar  prove. 
Not  only  saw  he  all  that  could  be, 
But  much  that  never  was,  nor  would  be; 
Whereby  all  prophets  far  outwent  he, 
Though  former  days  produced  a  plenty: 
For  any  man  with  half  an  eye 
What  stands  before  him  can  espy; 
But  optics  sharp  it  needs,  I  ween, 
To  see  what  is  not  to  be  seen. 
As  in  the  days  of  ancient  fame, 
Prophets  and  poets  were  the  same, 


402  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

And  all  the  praise  that  poets  gain 
Is  for  the  tales  they  forge  and  feign: 
So  gain'd  our  'Squire  his  fame  by  seeing 
Such  things,  as  never  would  have  being; 
Whence  he  for  oracles  was  grown 
The  very  tripod  x  of  his  town. 
Gazettes  no  sooner  rose  a  lie  in, 
But  strait  he  fell  to  prophesying; 
Made  dreadful  slaughter  in  his  course, 
O'erthrew  provincials,  foot  and  horse. 
Brought  armies  o'er,  by  sudden  pressings, 
Of  Hanoverians,  Swiss  and  Hessians, 
Feasted  with  blood  his  Scottish  clan, 
And  hang'd  all  rebels  to  a  man, 
Divided  their  estates  and  pelf, 
And  took  a  goodly  share  himself. 
All  this  with  spirit  energetic, 
He  did  by  second-sight  prophetic. 

Thus  stored  with  intellectual  riches, 
SkilPd  was  our  'Squire  in  making  speeches; 
Where  strength  of  brains  united  centers 
With  strength  of  lungs  surpassing  Stentor's.2 
But  as  some  muskets  so  contrive  it, 
As  oft  to  miss  the  mark  they  drive  at, 
And  though  well  aim'd  at  duck  or  plover, 
Bear  wide,  and  kick  their  owners  over: 
So  fared  our  'Squire,  whose  reasoning  toil 
Would  often  on  himself  recoil, 
And  so  much  injured  more  his  side, 
The  stronger  arguments  he  applied; 
As  old  war-elephants,  dismay'd, 
Trod  down  the  troops  they  came  to  aid, 
And  hurt  their  own  side  more  in  battle, 
Than  less  and  ordinary  cattle. 
Yet  at  Town-meetings  every  chief 

1  The  tripod  was  a  sacred  three-legged  stool,  from  which  the  ancient  priests 
uttered  their  oracles. 

2  Stentor,  the  loud-voic'd  herald  in  Homer. 


JOHN   T  RUM  BULL  403 

Pinn'd  faith  on  great  M'FINGAL'S  sleeve; 
Which  when  he  lifted,  all  by  rote 
Raised  sympathetic  hands  to  vote. 

M'FINGAL  TO  THE  WHIGS 
[From  "McFingal,"  Canto  II] 

"Your  boasted  patriotism  is  scarce, 
And  country's  love  is  but  a  farce : 
For  after  all  the  proofs  you  bring, 
We  Tories  know  there's  no  such  thing. 
Hath  not  Dalrymple  l  show'd  in  print, 
And  Johnson  too,  there's  nothing  in't; 
Produced  you  demonstration  ample, 
From  others'  and  their  own  example, 
That  self  is  still,  in  either  faction, 
The  only  principle  of  action; 
The  loadstone,  whose  attracting  tether 
Keeps  the  politic  world  together: 
And  spite  of  all  your  double  dealing, 
We  all  are  sure  'tis  so,  from  feeling. 

"Who  heeds  your  babbling  of  transmitting 
Freedom  to  brats  of  your  begetting, 
Or  will  proceed,  as  tho'  there  were  a  tie, 
And  obligation  to  posterity? 
We  get  them,  bear  them,  breed  and  nurse. 
What  has  posterity  done  for  us, 
That  we,  least  they  their  rights  should  lose, 
Should  trust  our  necks  to  gripe  of  noose? 
"And  who  believes  you  will  not  run? 
Ye're  cowards,  every  mother's  son; 
And  if  you  offer  to  deny, 

1  This  writer  undertook  to  demonstrate,  that  all  the  celebrated  British  patriots 
were  pensioners,  in  the  pay  of  France.  His  proof  is  derived  from  the  letters  of 
the  French  ambassadors,  who,  accounting  for  the  monies  received  from  their 
court,  charge  so  many  thousand  guineas  paid  to  Hampden,  Sidney,  and  others, 
as  bribes.  We  are  told  also  that  Admiral  Russell  defeated  the  French  fleet,  at 
a  time  when  he  had  engaged  most  solemnly,  and  received  a  stipulated  sum,  to  be 
beaten  himself. 


404  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

We've  witnesses  to  prove  it  by. 

Attend  th'  opinion  first,  as  referee, 

Of  your  old  general,  stout  Sir  Jeffrey ; 1 

Who  swore  that  with  five  thousand  foot 

He'd  rout  you  all,  and  in  pursuit 

Run  thro'  the  land,  as  easily 

As  camel  thro'  a  needle's  eye. 

Did  not  the  mighty  Colonel  Grant 

Against  your  courage  pour  his  rant, 

Affirm  your  universal  failure 

In  every  principle  of  valour, 

And  swear  no  scamperers  e'er  could  match  you, 

So  swift,  a  bullet  scarce  could  catch  you? 

And  will  you  not  confess,  in  this 

A  judge  most  competent  he  is; 

Well  skill'd  on  running  to  decide, 

As  what  himself  has  often  tried? 

'Twould  not  methinks  be  labor  lost, 

If  you'd  sit  down  and  count  the  cost, 

And  ere  you  call  your  Yankies  out, 

First  think  what  work  you've  set  about. 

Have  you  not  roused,  his  force  to  try  on, 

That  grim  old  beast,  the  British  Lion; 

And  know  you  not,  that  at  a  sup 

He's  large  enough  to  eat  you  up? 

Have  you  survey'd  his  jaws  beneath, 

Drawn  inventories  of  his  teeth, 

Or  have  you  weigh'd,  in  even  balance, 

His  strength  and  magnitude  of  talons? 

His  roar  would  change  your  boasts  to  fear, 

As  easily,  as  sour 2  small  beer ; 

And  make  your  feet  from  dreadful  fray, 

By  native  instinct  run  away. 

Britain,  depend  on't,  will  take  on  her 

T'assert  her  dignity  and  honor, 

1  Sir  Jeffrey  Amherst,  Grant,  and  other  officers,  who  had  served  in  America, 
were  so  ignorant,  silly,  or  malicious,  as  to  make  such  assertions  in  Parliament. 
8  It  is  asserted  that  the  roar  of  a  lion  will  turn  small  beer  sour. 


JOHN   T  RUM  BULL  405 

And  ere  she'd  lose  your  share  of  pelf, 
Destroy  your  country,  and  herself. 
For  has  not  North  declared  they  fight 
To  gain  substantial  rev'nue  by't, 
Denied  he'd  ever  deign  to  treat, 
Till  on  your  knees  and  at  his  feet  ? 
And  feel  you  not  a  trifling  ague 
From  Van's  '  Delenda  est  Carthago '  ?  l 
For  this  now  Britain  has  projected, 
Think  you  she  has  not  means  t'effect  it? 
Has  she  not  set  at  work  all  engines 
To  spirit  up  the  native  Indians, 
Send  on  your  backs  the  tawny  band, 
With  each  an  hatchet  in  his  hand, 
T'amuse  themselves  with  scalping  knives, 
And  butcher  children  and  your  wives; 
And  paid  them  for  your  scalps  at  sale 
More  than  your  heads  would  fetch  by  tale; 
That  she  might  boast  again  with  vanity, 
Her  English  national  humanity? 
For  now  in  its  primeval  sense 
This  term,  humanity,  comprehends 
All  things  of  which,  on  this  side  hell, 
The  human  mind  is  capable; 
And  thus  'tis  well,  by  writers  sage, 
Applied  to  Britain  and  to  Gage." 

THE  COMBAT  AT  THE  LIBERTY  POLE 

[From  "McFingal,"  Canto  III] 

M'FINGAL,   rising  at  the  word, 

Drew  forth  his  old  militia- sword; 

Thrice  cried  "  King  George,"  as  erst  in  distress, 

Knights  of  romance  invoked  a  mistress; 

1  Cartilage  must  be  annihilated.  There  actually  existed,  a  little  time  before 
the  war,  a  member  of  Parliament  of  the  name  of  Van,  who  in  a  speech  there  applied 
this  famous  threat  of  Cato  to  America,  and  particularly  to  Boston,  as  the  place  to 
begin  the  work  of  destruction. 


406  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

And  brandishing  the  blade  in  air, 

Struck  terror  through  th'  opposing  war. 

The  Whigs,  unsafe  within  the  wind 

Of  such  commotion,  shrunk  behind. 

With  whirling  steel  around  address'd, 

Fierce  through  their  thickest  throng  he  press'd, 

(Who  rolFd  on  either  side  in  arch, 

Like  Red  Sea  waves  in  Israel's  march) 

And  like  a  meteor  rushing  through, 

Struck  on  their  Pole  a  vengeful  blow. 

Around,  the  Whigs,  of  clubs  and  stones 

Discharged  whole  vollies,  in  platoons, 

That  o'er  in  whistling  fury  fly; 

But  not  a  foe  dares  venture  nigh. 

And  now  perhaps  with  glory  crown'd 

Our  'Squire  had  fell'd  the  pole  to  ground, 

Had  not  some  Pow'r,  a  whig  at  heart, 

Descended  down  and  took  their  part; 1 

(Whether  'twere  Pallas,  Mars  or  Iris, 

JTis  scarce  worth  while  to  make  inquiries) 

Who  at  the  nick  of  time  alarming, 

Assumed  the  solemn  form  of  Chairman, 

Address'd  a  Whig,  in  every  scene 

The  stoutest  wrestler  on  the  green, 

And  pointed  where  the  spade  was  found, 

Late  used  to  set  their  pole  in  ground, 

And  urged,  with  equal  arms  and  might, 

To  dare  our  'Squire  to  single  fight. 

The  Whig  thus  arm'd,  untaught  to  yield, 

Advanced  tremendous  to  the  field: 

Nor  did  M'FiNGAL  shun  the  foe, 

But  stood  to  brave  the  desp'rate  blow; 

While  all  the  party  gazed,  suspended 

To  see  the  deadly  combat  ended; 

1  The  learned  reader  will  readily  observe  the  allusions  in  this  scene,  to  the  single 
combats  of  Paris  and  Menelaus  in  Homer,  ^Eneas  and  the  Turnus  in  Virgil,  and 
Michael  and  Satan  in  Milton.  [Several  footnotes  to  the  rest  of  this  selection,  in 
which  the  author  cites  parallel  passages  from  Virgil,  Milton,  and  Juvenal,  are 
omitted.] 


JOHN   T  RUM  BULL  407 

And  Jove  in  equal  balance  weigh'd 

The  sword  against  the  brandish 'd  spade, 

He  weigh'd;   but  lighter  than  a  dream, 

The  sword  flew  up,  and  kick'd  the  beam. 

Our  'Squire  on  tiptoe  rising  fair 

Lifts  high  a  noble  stroke  in  air, 

Which  hung  not,  but  like  dreadful  engines, 

Descended  on  his  foe  in  vengeance. 

But  ah !  in  danger,  with  dishonor 

The  sword  perfidious  fails  its  owner; 

That  sword,  which  oft  had  stood  its  ground, 

By  huge  trainbands  encircled  round; 

And  on  the  bench,  with  blade  right  loyal, 

Had  won  the  day  at  many  a  trial,1 

Of  stones  and  clubs  had  braved  th'  alarms, 

Shrunk  from  these  new  Vulcanian  arms, 

The  spade  so  temper'd  from  the  sledge, 

Nor  keen  nor  solid  harm'd  its  edge, 

Now  met  it,  from  his  arm  of  might, 

Descending  with  steep  force  to  smite; 

The  blade  snapp'd  short —  and  from  his  hand, 

With  rust  embrown'd  the  glittering  sand. 

Swift  turn'd  M'FiNGAL  at  the  view, 

And  call'd  to  aid  th'  attendant  crew, 

In  vain;  the  Tories  all  had  run, 

When  scarce  the  fight  was  well  begun; 

Their  setting  wigs  he  saw  decreas'd 

Far  in  th'  horizon  tow'rd  the  west. 

Amazed  he  view'd  the  shameful  sight, 

And  saw  no  refuge,  but  in  flight: 

But  age  unwieldy  check'd  his  pace, 

Though  fear  had  wing'd  his  flying  race; 

For  not  a  trifling  prize  at  stake; 

No  less  than  great  M'FixcAL's  back. 

With  legs  and  arms  he  work'd  his  course, 

Like  rider  that  outgoes  his  horse, 

1  It  was  the  fashion  in  New-England  at  that  time,  for  judges  to  wear  swords  on 
the  bench. 


408  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

And  labor'd  hard  to  get  away,  as 

Old  Satan  struggling  on  through  chaos; 

'Till  looking  back,  he  spied  in  rear 

The  spade-arm'd  chief  advanced  too  near: 

Then  stopp'd  and  seized  a  stone,  that  lay 

An  ancient  landmark  near  the  way; 

Nor  shall  we  as  old  bards  have  done, 

Affirm  it  weigh'd  an  hundred  ton; 

But  such  a  stone,  as  at  a  shift 

A  modern  might  suffice  to  lift, 

Since  men,  to  credit  their  enigmas, 

Are  dwindled  down  to  dwarfs  and  pigmies, 

And  giants  exiled  to  their  cronies 

To  Brobdignags  and  Patagonias. 

But  while  our  Hero  turn'd  him  round, 

And  tugg'd  to  raise  it  from  the  ground, 

The  fatal  spade  discharged  a  blow 

Tremendous  on  his  rear  below: 

His  bent  knee  fail'd,  and  void  of  strength 

Stretch'd  on  the  ground  his  manly  length. 

Like  ancient  oak  o'erturn'd,  he  lay, 

Or  tower  to  tempests  fall'n  a  prey, 

Or  mountain  sunk  with  all  his  pines, 

Or  flow'r  the  plow  to  dust  consigns, 

And  more  things  else  —  but  all  men  know  'em' 

If  slightly  versed  in  epic  poem. 

At  once  the  crew,  at  this  dread  crisis, 

Fall  on,  and  bind  him,  ere  he  rises; 

And  with  loud  shouts  and  joyful  soul 

Conduct  him  prisoner  to  the  pole. 


TIMOTHY    DWIGHT 

[Timothy  Dwight,  another  of  the  more  famous  "Hartford  Wits,"  was  the 
grandson  of  Jonathan  Edwards.  He  was  born  in  Northampton,  Mass.,  in 
1752,  and  was  graduated  from  Yale  College  in  1769.  He  was  a  tutor  in  his 
Alma  Mater  at  the  same  time  as  Trumbull,  with  whom  he  collaborated  in  lit 
erary  work.  For  a  year  he  was  chaplain  in  the  Continental  army.  After 
ward  he  tried  farming  and  teaching,  and  served  a  term  in  the  state  legisla 
ture.  In  1783  he  became  pastor  at  Greenfield  Hill,  in  Fairfield,  Conn.,  and 
from  1795  to  his  death  in  1817  he  was  president  of  Yale  College. 

Many  writings  of  President  Dwight  were  published,  the  majority  of  them 
being  on  religious  and  theological  subjects.  Only  those  most  interesting  to 
the  student  of  American  literary  history  can  be  mentioned  here.  "Colum 
bia,"  a  song  written  while  he  was  a  chaplain  in  the  army,  was  for  a  long  time 
popular.  "The  Conquest  of  Canaan,"  an  epic  first  published  in  1785,  was 
said  to  have  been  written  before  17/4,  but  several  references  to  Revolution 
ary  battles  must  have  been  inserted  after  these  events  took  place,  and  it  is 
not  unlikely  that  the  whole  poem  was  revised  just  before  it  was  published. 
In  1794  appeared  "Greenfield  Hill,"  a  poem  in  seven  parts.  It  was  origi 
nally  intended  that  each  part  should  be  in  the  manner  of  some  popular 
English  poet,  and  although  this  plan  was  abandoned,  the  imitation  is  obvious 
in  many  passages.  In  1797  Dwight  published  a  bitter  verse  satire,  "The 
Triumph  of  Infidelity."  The  year  after  his  death  five  volumes  of  his  ser 
mons  were  published  with  the  title  "Theology  explained  and  defended " ;  and 
in  1821  his  "Travels  in  New  England  and  New  York"  was  issued  in  four 
volumes.  The  last-named  work  is  based  on  notes  of  all  sorts  made  during 
the  journeys  which  occupied  many  of  the  author's  vacations  while  he  was 
president  of  Yale. 

As  a  writer  of  verse,  Dwight  had  command  of  a  small  but  intense  poetic 
vocabulary,  and  produced  many  monotonously  sonorous  lines  in  imitation 
of  the  eighteenth-century  English  poets.  He  was  deficient  in  a  sense  of 
humor,  and  in  real  poetic  insight,  and  little  of  his  work  can  truly  be  called 
poetry.  His  satirical  and  controversial  writings  are  especially  unfortunate. 
The  "Travels"  shows  his  credulity,  his  religious  narrowness,  and  an  odd 
fondness  for  sensational  anecdotes,  but  it  also  shows  his  appreciation  of 
the  historic  importance  of  details,  and  is  his  most  readable,  and  perhaps  his 
most  valuable,  work. 

The  version  of  "Columbia"  here  given  is  from  the  "Columbian  Muse," 
New  York,  1794.  The  selections  from  "The  Conquest  of  Canaan,"  "Green 
field  Hill,"  and  the  "Travels"  are  from  the  first  editions  of  each,  published 
respectively  in  1785,  1794,  and  1821.] 

409 


410  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

COLUMBIA 

Columbia,  Columbia,  to  glory  rise, 
The  queen  of  the  world,  and  child  of  the  skies ! 
Thy  genius  commands  thee;   with  raptures  behold, 
While  ages  on  ages  thy  splendours  unfold. 
Thy  reign  is  the  last,  and  the  noblest  of  time, 
Most  fruitful  thy  soil,  most  inviting  thy  clime. 
Let  the  crimes  of  the  east  ne'er  encrimson  thy  name, 
Be  freedom,  and  science,  and  virtue,  thy  fame. 

To  conquest,  and  slaughter,  let  Europe  aspire, 
Whelm  nations  in  blood,  and  wrap  cities  in  fire. 
Thy  heroes  the  rights  of  mankind  shall  defend, 
And  triumph  pursue  them,  and  glory  attend. 
A  world  is  thy  realm:  for  a  world  be  thy  laws, 
Enlarged  as  thine  empire,  and  just  as  thy  cause; 
On  Freedom's  broad  basis,  that  empire  shall  rise, 
Extend  with  the  main,  and  dissolve  with  the  skies. 

Fair  Science  her  gates  to  thy  sons  shall  unbar, 
And  the  east  see  thy  morn  hide  the  beams  of  her  star. 
New  bards,  and  new  sages,  unrival'd  shall  soar 
To  fame,  unextinguish'd,  when  time  is  no  more; 
To  thee,  the  last  refuge  of  virtue  designed, 
Shall  fly  from  all  nations  the  best  of  mankind; 
Here,  grateful  to  heaven,  with  transport  shall  bring 
Their  incense,  more  fragrant  than  odours  of  spring. 

Nor  less  shall  thy  fair  ones  to  glory  ascend, 
And  Genius  and  Beauty  in  harmony  blend; 
The  graces  of  form  shall  awake  pure  desire, 
And  the  charms  of  the  soul  ever  cherish  the  fire; 
Their  sweetness  unmingled,  their  manners  refin'd, 
And  Virtue's  bright  image,  instamp'd  on  the  mind, 
With  peace,  and  soft  rapture,  shall  teach  life  to  glow, 
And  light  up  a  smile  in  the  aspect  of  woe. 

Thy  fleets  to  all  nations  thy  pow'r  shall  display, 
The  nations  admire,  and  the  ocean  obey; 
Each  shore  to  thy  glory  its  tribute  unfold, 
And  the  east  and  the  south  yield  their  spices  and  gold. 


TIMOTHY  DWIGHT  411 

As  the  day-spring  unbounded,  thy  splendour  shall  flow, 
And  earth's  little  kingdoms  before  thee  shall  bow; 
While  the  ensigns  of  union,  in  triumph  unfurl'd, 
Hush  the  tumult  of  war,  and  give  peace  to  the  world. 
Thus,  as  down  a  lone  valley,  with  cedars  o'erspread, 
From  war's  dread  confusion  I  pensively  stray'd  — 
The  gloom  from  the  face  of  fair  heav'n  retir'd; 
The  winds  ceas'd  to  murmur;   the  thunders  expir'd; 
Perfumes,  as  of  Eden,  flow'd  sweetly  along, 
And  a  voice,  as  of  angels,  enchantingly  sung : 
"  Columbia,  Columbia,  to  glory  arise, 
The  queen  of  the  world,  and  the  child  of  the  skies." 

A  BATTLE 

[From  "The  Conquest  of  Canaan,"  Book  III] 

As  now  the  tempest  hid  the  orb  of  day, 
The  threatening  fronts  approach'd,  in  dark  array; 
Swift  through  th'  expansion  clouds  of  arrows  fly; 
Stones  shower  on  stones,  and  whizz  along  the  sky; 
Sing  the  shrill  strings;  the  hissing  darts  resound; 
From  clanging  bucklers  rattling  pebbles  bound; 
Now  here,  now  there,  the  warriors  fall;   amain 
Groans  murmur;  armour  sounds;  and  shouts  convulse  the  plain. 

With  deep  amaze,  the  sons  of  Ai  beheld 
Their  foes,  with  ardour,  tempt  the  deathful  field. 
For  now,  elate,  they  sought  the  early  fight, 
To  certain  victory  march'd  with  fierce  delight; 
And  fondly  hop'd,  ere  Oran's  hosts  should  come, 
To  seal  devoted  Israel's  hapless  doom. 
But  vain  their  hopes;   for  with  firm  duty  strong, 
Undaunted  Zimri  fir'd  the  martial  throng  — 
Now,  warriors,  now  —  the  glowing  leader  cried  — 
Shall  Israel's  arms  regain  their  ravish'd  pride; 
Ai  now  shall  learn,  untaught  our  force  to  slight, 
What  virtue  warms  us  to  the  generous  fight; 
That  one  lost  field  shall  ne'er  our  race  dismay, 
Nor  shame,  nor  terror,  stain  the  glorious  day. 


412  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

While  thus  untroubled  thoughts  his  words  confessed, 
All-anxious  fears  disturb'd  his  boding  breast. 
The  host  he  knew  distrustful  of  the  sky, 
Propense  to  terror,  and  prepar'd  to  fly; 
He  saw  them  sad  move  lingering  o'er  the  plain, 
New  arm  their  foes,  and  double  all  their  train: 
And  the  great  Chief  a  strong  injunction  gave, 
Each  post  with  care  to  guard,  each  band  to  save, 
Each  opening  fair  for  wise  retreat  t'  imbrace 
To  tempt  no  loss,  and  hazard  no  disgrace. 
But  far  beyond  his  thoughts,  the  sound  of  war, 
The  clash  of  arms,  the  shouts  that  rend  the  air, 
Th'  inspiring  tumults  of  the  dreadful  plain, 
New  strung  their  nerves,  and  rous'd  their  hopes  again. 
In  quick  oblivion,  flight  and  fear  were  lost; 
Increasing  ardours  every  bosom  toss'd; 
Firm-wedg'd,  unshaken,  rush'd  the  darkening  train; 
Spears  flew;   air  murmur'd;   corses  heap'd  the  plain; 
One  flight  of  twinkling  arms,  all  ether  shone; 
Earth  roar'd  one  shout  confus'd,  one  mingled  groan; 
Each  host  press'd  eager;   each  disdained  to  fly; 
And  wide  confusion  blended  earth  and  sky. 

Mean  time  the  storm,  along  dark  mountains  driven, 
Hung  o'er  the  plain,  and  wrapp'd  the  mid-day  heaven; 
More  frequent  lightnings  blaz'd  the  skies  around, 
And  peals  more  dreadful  shook  the  solid  ground. 
From  the  black  clouds  the  whirlwinds  burst  amain, 
Scour' d  all  the  groves,  and  rag'd  along  the  plain; 
Beneath,  huge  shouts  the  murmuring  concave  rend, 
And  drifts  of  dust  in  gloomy  pomp  ascend. 

With  boding  hearts,  the  chiefs  of  Ai  survey'd 
The  sun's  pure  splendor  lost  in  cloudy  shade; 
The  sun,  their  god,  his  smiling  face  withdrew, 
And  round  the  world  a  fearful  darkness  flew: 
Hence  unapprov'd  they  doom'd  the  doubtful  day, 
And  scann'd,  with  careful  looks  their  homeward  way: 
As  thus  they  backward  gaz'd,  the  driving  rain 
Rush'd,  with  impetuous  fury,  o'er  the  plain; 


TIMOTHY  DWIGHT 

Fierce  down  th'  expansion  streaming  torrents  shower'd, 
And  blood-stain'd  brooks  along  the  champain  pour'd. 
The  clash  of  arms,  the  long-resounding  cries, 
Wav'd  o'er  the  world  a  hoarse,  tumultuous  noise; 
From  heaven's  huge  vault  loud- rolling  thunders  came, 
And  lightnings  blazed  unsufferable  flame. 
Then  sad,  disheartened,  from  the  dreadful  fire 
Ai's  generous  leaders  bade  their  host  retire. 
Reluctant,  slow,  disdaining  base  defeat, 
From  Israel's  sons  the  grisly  ranks  retreat; 
Surpriz'd,  fierce  Israel  see  their  backward  course, 
Hang  o'er  their  rear,  and  press  with  gathering  force; 
Intenser  shouts  ascend;   the  lightning's  flame 
Casts  o'er  the  shields  a  strong  alternate  gleam; 
Loud  thunders  roll;   the  fields  all  quake  around: 
And  the  rain  rushing  roars  along  the  ground. 
Then  Zimri's  piercing  voice,  with  stern  commands, 
Restrains  the  fury  of  his  eager  bands. 
So  fierce  the  thousands  burn  for  raging  war, 
Even  single  warriors  urge  their  foes  afar; 
'Till  near  the  chief,  they  see  the  standard  rise, 
While  yet  the  tempest  fills  the  midway  skies, 
Then  deep-embosom'd  in  th'  obscuring  rain, 
Their  foes  untroubled  cross  the  homeward  plain. 

Mean  time  the  winds  were  pass'd,  the  storm  was  o'er, 
And  streaming  torrents  ceas'd  from  heaven  to  pour; 
Strait  to  the  camp,  by  Zimri's  voice  compell'd, 
The  bands  slow-moving  cross'd  the  spacious  field. 
With  joy,  the  chief  resolv'd  the  troubled  day, 
The  fate,  and  influence  of  the  fierce  affray; 
Ai,  in  fierce  conflict,  fail'd  the  wreath  to  gain, 
And  Israel,  dauntless,  trod  the  skirmish'd  plain; 
He  saw  the  host  again  to  combat  won 
Their  hopes  new-kindled,  and  their  terror  gone; 
Thence  his  own  bosom  boding  fear  dispell'd, 
And  promis'd  triumph  on  the  future  field. 

And  now  the  Youth  they  pass'd,  as,  with  fond  eyes, 
He  saw  the  varying  fate  of  combat  rise; 


413 


414  EARLY  AMERICAN  WRITERS 

To  him,  deep-pondering,  blew  the  storm  in  vain, 
Scarce  heard  the  peals,  or  mark'd  the  battering  rain: 
'Till  Ai,  retir'd,  the  doubtful  strife  resign'd, 
And  calm'd  the  tumults  of  his  anxious  mind. 

Then  gentler  scenes  his  rapt  attention  gain'd, 
Where  God's  great  hand  in  clear  effulgence  reign'd, 
The  growing  beauties  of  the  solemn  even, 
And  all  the  bright  sublimities  of  heaven. 
Above  tall  western  hills,  the  light  of  day 
Shot  far  the  splendors  of  his  golden  ray; 
Bright  from  the  storm,  with  tenfold  grace  he  smil'd, 
The  tumult  soften'd,  and  the  world  grew  mild. 
With  pomp  transcendant,  rob'd  in  heavenly  dies, 
Arch'd  the  clear  rainbow  round  the  orient  skies; 
Its  changeless  form,  its  hues  of  beam  divine, 
Fair  type  of  truth,  and  beauty;   endless  shine, 
Around  th'  expanse,  with  thousand  splendors  rare, 
Gay  clouds  sail'd  wanton  through  the  kindling  air; 
From  shade  to  shade,  unnumber'd  tinctures  blend; 
Unnumber'd  forms  of  wonderous  light  extend; 
In  pride  stupendous,  glittering  walls  aspire, 
Grac'd  with  bright  domes,  and  crown'd  with  towers  of  fire, 
On  cliffs  cliffs  burn;  o'er  mountains  mountains  roll: 
A  burst  of  glory  spreads  from  pole  to  pole : 
Rapt  with  the  splendor,  every  songster  sings, 
Tops  the  high  bough,  and  claps  his  glistening  wings: 
With  new-born  green,  reviving  nature  blooms, 
And  sweeter  fragrance  freshening  air  perfumes. 

Far  south  the  storm  withdrew  its  troubled  reign; 
Descending  twilight  dimm'd  the  dusky  plain; 
Black  night  arose;  her  curtains  hid  the  ground; 
Less  roar'd,  and  less,  the  thunder's  solemn  sound; 
The  bended  lightning  shot  a  brighter  stream, 
Or  wrapp'd  all  heaven  in  one  wide,  mantling  flame; 
By  turns,  o'er  plains,  and  woods,  and  mountains,  spread 
Faint,  yellow  glimmerings,  and  a  deeper  shade. 

From  parting  clouds,  the  moon  out-breaking  shone, 
And  sate,  sole  empress,  on  her  silver  throne; 


TIMOTHY  DWIGHT  415 

In  clear,  full  beauty,  round  all  nature  smil'd, 
And  claim'd  o'er  heaven,  and  earth,  dominion  mild; 
With  humbler  glory,  stars  her  court  attend, 
And  bless'd,  and  union'd,  silent  lustre  blend. 

THE  VILLAGE  CHURCH  AND  THE  VILLAGE  SCHOOL 

[From  "Greenfield  Hill"] 

Beside  yon  church,  that  beams  a  modest  ray, 
With  tidy  neatness  reputably  gay, 
When,  mild  and  fair,  as  Eden's  seventh-day  light, 
In  silver  silence,  shines  the  Sabbath  bright, 
In  neat  attire,  the  village  households  come, 
And  learn  the  path-way  to  the  eternal  home. 
Hail  solemn  ordinance !  worthy  of  the  SKIES  ; 
Whence  thousand  richest  blessings  daily  rise; 
Peace,  order,  cleanliness,  and  manners  sweet, 
A  sober  mind,  to  rule  submission  meet, 
Enlarging  knowledge,  life  from  guilt  refin'd, 
And  love  to  God,  and  friendship  to  mankind. 
In  the  clear  splendour  of  thy  vernal  morn, 
New-quicken'd  man  to  light,  and  life,  is  born; 
The  desert  of  the  mind  with  virtue  blooms; 
It's  flowers  unfold,  it's  fruits  exhale  perfumes; 
Proud  guilt  dissolves,  beneath  the  searching  ray, 
And  low  debasement,  trembling,  creeps  away; 
Vice  bites  the  dust;   foul  Error  seeks  her  den; 
And  God,  descending,  dwells  anew  with  men. 
Where  yonder  humbler  spire  salutes  the  eye, 
It's  vane  slow  turning  in  the  liquid  sky, 
Where,  in  light  gambols,  healthy  striplings  sport, 
Ambitious  learning  builds  her  outer  court; 
A  grave  preceptor,  there,  her  usher  stands, 
And  rules,  without  a  rod,  her  little  bands. 
Some  half-grown  sprigs  of  learning  grac'd  his  brow: 
Little  he  knew,  though  much  he  wish'd  to  know, 
Inchanted  hung  o'er  Virgil's  honey'd  lay, 
And  smil'd,  to  see  desipient  Horace  play; 


416  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

Glean'd  scraps  of  Greek;   and,  curious,  trac'd  afar, 
Through  Pope's  clear  glass,  the  bright  Maeonian  star. 
Yet  oft  his  students  at  his  wisdom  star'd, 
For  many  a  student  to  his  side  repair'd, 
Surpriz'd,  they  heard  him  Dilworth's  knots  untie, 
And  tell,  what  lands  beyond  the  Atlantic  lie. 

Many  his  faults;   his  virtues  small,  and  few; 
Some  little  good  he  did,  or  strove  to  do; 
Laborious  still,  he  taught  the  early  mind, 
And  urg'd  to  manners  meek,  and  thoughts  refin'd; 
Truth  he  impress'd,  and  every  virtue  prais'd; 
While  infant  eyes,  in  wondering  silence,  gaz'd; 
The  worth  of  time  would,  day  by  day,  unfold, 
And  tell  them,  every  hour  was  made  of  gold. 
Brown  Industry  he  lov'd;  and  oft  declar'd 
How  hardy  Sloth,  in  life's  sad  evening,  far'd. 


THE  MUTABILITY  OF  EARTHLY  THINGS 

[From  "Greenfield  Hill"] 

Ah  me !  while  up  the  long,  long  vale  of  time, 

Reflection  wanders  towards  th'  eternal  vast, 

How  starts  the  eye,  at  many  a  change  sublime, 

Unbosom'd  dimly  by  the  ages  pass'd ! 

What  Mausoleums  crowd  the  mournful  waste  I 

The  tombs  of  empires  fallen !  and  nations  gone ! 

Each,  once  inscrib'd,  in  gold,  with  "  AYE  TO  LAST  " 

Sate  as  a  queen;   proclaim'd  the  world  her  own, 

And  proudly  cried,  "By  me  no  sorrows  shall  be  known." 

Soon  fleets  the  sunbright  Form,  by  man  ador'd. 

Soon  fell  the  Head  of  gold,  to  Time  a  prey; 

The  Arms,  the  Trunk,  his  cankering  tooth  devoured; 

And  whirlwinds  blew  the  Iron  dust  away. 

Where  dwelt  imperial  Timur?  —  far  astray, 

Some  lonely-musing  pilgrim  now  enquires: 

And,  rack'd  by  storms,  and  hastening  to  decay, 


TIMOTHY   DWIGHT  417 

Mohammed's  Mosque  forsees  it's  final  fires; 

And  Rome's  more  lordly  Temple  day  by  day  expires. 

As  o'er  proud  Asian  realms  the  traveller  winds, 

His  manly  spirit,  hush'd  by  terror,  falls; 

When  some  deceased  town's  lost  site  he  finds, 

Where  ruin  wild  his  pondering  eye  appals; 

Where  silence  swims  along  the  moulder'd  walls, 

And  broods  upon  departed  Grandeur's  tomb. 

Through  the  lone,  hollow  aisles  sad  echo  calls, 

At  each  slow  step;   deep  sighs  the  breathing  gloom, 

And  weeping  fields,  around,  bewail  their  Empress'  doom. 

Where  o'er  an  hundred  realms,  the  throne  uprose, 
The  screech-owl  nests,  the  panther  builds  his  home; 
Sleep  the  dull  newts,  the  lazy  adders  doze, 
Where  pomp  and  luxury  danc'd  the  golden  room. 
Low  lies  in  dust  the  sky-resembled  dome; 
Tall  grass  around  the  broken  column  waves; 
And  brambles  climb,  and  lonely  thistles  bloom: 
The  moulder'd  arch  the  weedy  streamlet  laves, 
And  low  resound,  beneath,  unnumber'd  sunken  graves. 

Soon  fleets  the  sun-bright  Form,  by  man  ador'd; 

And  soon  man's  daemon  chiefs  from  memory  fade. 

In  musty  volume,  now  must  be  explored, 

W7here  dwelt  imperial  nations,  long  decayed. 

The  brightest  meteors  angry  clouds  invade; 

And  where  the  wonders  glitter'd,  none  explain. 

Where  Carthage,  with  proud  hand,  the  trident  sway'd, 

Now  mud-wall'd  cots  sit  sullen  on  the  plain, 

And  wandering,  fierce,  and  wild,  sequester'd  Arabs  reign. 

In  thee,  O  Albion !  queen  of  nations,  live 

WTiatever  splendours  earth's  wide  realms  have  known; 

In  thee  proud  Persia  sees  her  pomp  revive; 

And  Greece  her  arts;  and  Rome  her  lordly  throne: 

By  every  wind,  thy  Tyrian  fleets  are  blown; 

2E 


4l8  EARLY  AMERICAN   WRITERS 

Supreme,  on  Fame's  dread  roll,  thy  heroes  stand; 

All  ocean's  realms  thy  naval  scepter  own; 

Of  bards,  of  sages,  how  august  thy  band ! 

And  one  rich  Eden  blooms  around  thy  garden'd  land. 

But  O  how  vast  thy  crimes !    Through  Heaven's  great  year, 

When  few  centurial  suns  have  trac'd  their  way ; 

When  southern  Europe,  worn  by  feuds  severe; 

Weak,  doating,  fallen,  has  bow'd  to  Russian  sway; 

And  setting  glory  beam'd  her  farewell  ray; 

To  wastes,  perchance,  thy  brilliant  fields  shall  turn; 

In  dust,  thy  temples,  towers,  and  towns  decay; 

The  forest  howl,  where  London's  turrets  burn; 

And  all  thy  garlands  deck  thy  sad,  funereal  urn. 

Some  land,  scarce  glimmering  in  the  light  of  fame, 

Scepter 'd  with  arts,  and  arms  (if  I  divine) 

Some  unknown  wild,  some  shore  without  a  name, 

In  all  thy  pomp,  shall  then  majestic  shine. 

As  silver-headed  Time's  slow  years  decline, 

Not  ruins  only  meet  th'  enquiring  eye: 

Where  round  yon  mouldering  oak  vain  brambles  twine, 

The  filial  stem,  already  towering  high, 

Erelong  shall  stretch  his  arms,  and  nod  in  yonder  sky. 

PSALM  CXXXVII 

[From  Dwight's  revision  of  Watts's  Psalms] 

I  love  thy  kingdom,  Lord, 
The  house  of  thine  abode, 
The  church,  our  blest  Redeemer  sav'd 
With  his  own  precious  blood. 

I  love  thy  Church,  O  God ! 
Her  walls  before  thee  stand, 
Dear  as  the  apple  of  thine  eye, 
And  graven  on  thy  hand. 


TIMOTHY  DWIGHT  419 

If  e'er  to  bless  thy  sons 
My  voice,  or  hands,  deny, 
These  hands  let  useful  skill  forsake, 
This  voice  in  silence  die. 

If  e'er  my  heart  forget 
Her  welfare,  or  her  wo, 
Let  every  joy  this  heart  forsake, 
And  every  grief  o'erflow. 

For  her  my  tears  shall  fall; 
For  her  my  prayers  ascend; 
To  her  my  cares  and  toils  be  given, 
'Till  toils  and  cares  shall  end. 

Beyond  my  highest  joy 
I  prize  her  heavenly  ways, 
Her  sweet  communion,  solemn  vows, 
Her  hymns  of  love  and  praise. 

Jesus,  thou  Friend  divine, 
Our  Saviour  and  our  King, 
Thy  hand  from  every  snare  and  foe 
Shall  great  deliverance  bring. 

Sure  as  thy  truth  shall  last, 
To  Zion  shall  be  given 
The  brightest  glories,  earth  can  yield, 
And  brighter  bliss  of  heaven. 

THE   ORIGIN  OF  A  NAME 

[From  the  "Travels  in  New-England  and  New-York"J 

In  this  township  there  are  two  mountains;  one  of  which  is 
named  Mount  Cuba,  from  a  dog  which  bore  that  name,  and  was 
killed  upon  it  by  a  bear.  The  other  was  named  Mount  Sunday, 
from  the  following  fact.  Seven  men,  one  of  them  a  Mr.  Palmer, 
went  into  the  Eastern  part  of  the  township,  and,  in  the  language 


420  EARLY  AMERICAN  WRITERS 

of  the  country,  were  lost;  that  is,  they  became  wholly  uncertain 
of  the  course,  which  they  were  to  pursue,  in  order  to  regain  their 
habitations.  Palmer  insisted,  that  it  lay  in  a  direction,  really 
Eastward,  although  he  believed  it  to  point  Westward.  His  com 
panions,  judging  more  correctly,  determined  to  take  the  opposite 
course.  In  their  progress,  they  passed  over  this  mountain.  The 
day,  on  which  they  ascended  it,  was  the  Sabbath ;  and  the  moun 
tain  has,  from  this  circumstance,  derived  a  name,  which  it  will 
probably  retain,  so  long  as  the  posterity  of  the  English  colonists 
inhabit  this  country.  The  six  men,  returning  home,  and  not 
finding  Palmer,  went  again  in  search  of  him.  In  a  place,  two 
miles  Eastward  of  the  spot  where  they  had  left  him,  they  found 
him  engaged  in  a  contest  with  a  bear;  which  had  attacked  him 
the  preceding  evening,  on  his  way.  As  the  bear  was  advancing 
towards  him,  he  was  fortunate  enough  to  procure  a  club;  with 
which  he  had  been  able  to  defend  himself,  until  he  made  good 
his  retreat  to  a  neighbouring  tree.  The  bear  followed  him  as  he 
ascended  the  tree;  but  his  club  enabled  him  to  keep  the  animal 
at  bay,  until  his  companions  came  up,  and  delivered  him  from  the 
impending  destruction. 

I  presume  you  will  wonder  at  my  mentioning  these  trifling 
incidents.  I  have  mentioned  them  because  they  are  trifles.  The 
names  of  mountains,  rivers,  and  other  distinguished  natural 
objects,  both  here  and  in  England,  have  often  seemed  to  me 
strange  and  inexplicable.  The  little  incidents,  which  I  have  men 
tioned,  furnish,  I  suspect,  a  probable  explanation  of  this  enig 
matical  subject,  in  a  great  proportion  of  cases.  Events,  some 
times  more,  and  sometimes  even  less,  significant  than  these,  have, 
I  am  persuaded,  been  the  origin  of  a  great  part  of  those  odd 
appellations,  given  to  so  many  of  the  objects  in  question.  Among 
the  proofs,  that  this  opinion  is  just,  the  oddity,  and  the  vulgarity 
of  the  appellations,  and  the  speedy  oblivion,  into  which  the  causes 
of  them  have  fallen,  are,  to  me,  satisfactory.  Their  oddity  proves 
them  to  have  been  derived  from  incidents,  aside  from  the  ordi 
nary  course  of  things:  their  vulgarity  shews  them  to  have  been 
given  by  persons  in  humble  life;  and  the  fact,  that  the  sources 
from  which  they  have  sprung  have  been  so  soon  forgotten,  evinces 
their  insignificancy. 


JOEL   BARLOW 


[Joel  Barlow,  the  third  in  the  most  illustrious  trio  of  "Hartford  Wits," 
seems  to  have  had  many  of  the  characteristics  of  the  traditional  Yankee. 
He  was  born  in  Connecticut  in  1754,  and  was  graduated  at  Yale  College  in 
1778.  Like  many  other  collegians  he  served  in  the  army  during  vacations, 
and  is  said  to  have  fought  at  White  Plains.  After  his  graduation  he  studied 
law,  then  turned  his  attention  for  six  weeks  to  divinity,  and  at  the  end  of  that 
time  became  chaplain  of  a  Massachusetts  brigade.  In  the  few  years  im 
mediately  after  the  close  of  the  war  he  practised  law,  founded  a  newspaper, 
edited  a  Psalm  book  for  the  Congregational  Church  of  Connecticut,  and 
conducted  a  book-store.  Meanwhile  he  had  published,  besides  his  version 
of  the  Psalms,  "The  Prospect  of  Peace,"  a  poem  delivered  at  the  time  of 
his  graduation,  and  "The  Vision  of  Columbus."  Both  these  were  after 
ward  utilized  in  the  construction  of  the  "Columbiad."  In  1788  Barlow 
went  abroad  as  agent  of  a  western  land  company.  In  England  he  wrote 
"Advice  to  the  privileged  Orders,"  in  prose,  and  "The  Conspiracy  of  Kings," 
in  verse.  The  first-named  of  these  works  led  to  his  expulsion  from  the 
country,  and  he  went  to  France,  where  he  took  an  active  part  in  politics. 
It  was  while  he  was  on  a  political  mission  in  Savoy  that  he  wrote  "Hasty 
Pudding,"  his  mock-heroic  tribute  to  a  favorite  dish  that  was  unexpectedly 
set  before  him.  Later  he  engaged  in  business  in  Paris,  and  served  as  United 
States  consul  to  Algiers.  His  fondness  for  French  ideas  in  politics  and  reli* 
gion  made  him  an  object  of  suspicion  in  his  native  state,  where  Federalism 
and  orthodoxy  were  dominant.  It  is  said  that  the  Congregational  Church 
of  Connecticut  discarded  his  version  of  the  Psalms  as  the  work  of  an  apostate. 
When  in  1805  he  returned  to  America,  he  took  up  his  residence  near  Washing 
ton.  Two  years  later  he  published  the  "Columbiad."  In  1811  he  was 
appointed  minister  to  France,  and  the  next  year  he  died  in  Poland,  where  he 
had  gone  to  meet  Napoleon. 

The  "Vision  of  Columbus,"  which  Barlow  published  in  1787,  is  a  poem 
in  nine  books  of  heroic  couplet.  Columbus,  despondent  in  prison,  is  taken 
by  an  angel  to  a  height  where  he  sees  all  the  continent  that  he  has  discovered, 
and  its  future  passes  in  vision  before  him.  The  "Columbiad,"  which  ap 
peared  twenty  years  later,  tells  the  same  story  at  greater  length  in  ten  books. 
Barlow  presented  the  unfortunate  spectacle  of  an  author  becoming  more 
bombastic  and  sophomoric  as  he  grew  older.  By  1807  he  had  become  a 
devotee  of  reformed  spelling,  and  had  grown  fond  of  pedantic  words,  many 
of  them  of  his  own  coinage.  These  peculiarities,  together  with  the  epic  form 
and  title  of  the  new  work,  the  unabashed  references  to  Homer  and  Virgil  in 

421 


422  EARLY   AMERICAN    WRITERS 

the  preface,  and  the  fact  that  the  first  edition  of  the  poem  was  very  sumptuous 
in  typography  and  binding,  tended  to  expose  Barlow  to  ridicule;  and  the 
"Columbiad"  has  ever  since  been  the  stock  example  of  an  over-ambitious 
American  literary  production. 

The  selections  from  "The  Vision  of  Columbus"  follow  the  first  English 
edition  of  1787.  The  passage  from  the  "Columbiad"  is  from  the  second 
edition,  1809.  The  first  and  second  selections  show  the  treatment  of  the 
same  subject  in  these  two  poems.  The  extract  from  "The  Hasty  Pudding  " 
follows  the  reprint  of  the  first  edition  (1796)  in  Duyckinck's  "Cyclopaedia  of 
American  Literature."] 

INDEPENDENCE;  AND  THE  COMING  OF   WAR 

[From  the  "Vision  of  Columbus"] 

Adams,  enraged,  a  broken  charter  bore, 
And  lawless  acts  of  ministerial  power; 
Some  injured  right  in  each  loose  leaf  appears, 
A  king  in  terrors  and  a  land  in  tears ; 
From  all  the  guileful  plots  the  veil  he  drew, 
With  eye  retortive  look'd  creation  thro', 
Oped  the  wide  range  of  nature's  boundless  plan, 
Traced  all  the  steps  of  liberty  and  man ; 
Crowds  rose  to  vengeance  while  his  accents  rung, 
And  Independence  thunder'd  from  his  tongue. 

The  Hero  turn'd.    And  tow'rd  the  crowded  coast 
Rose  on  the  wave  a  wide-extended  host, 
They  shade  the  main  and  spread  their  sails  abroad, 
From  the  wide  Laurence  to  the  Georgian  flood, 
Point  their  black  batteries  to  the  approaching  shore, 
And  bursting  flames  begin  the  hideous  roar. 

Where  guardless  Falmouth,  looking  o'er  the  bay, 
Beheld,  unmoved,  the  stormy  thunders  play, 
The  fire  begins;   the  shells  o'er-arching  fly, 
And  shoot  a  thousand  rainbows  thro'  the  sky; 
On  Charlestown  spires,  on  Bristol  roofs,  they  light, 
Groton  and  Fairfield  kindle  from  the  flight, 
Fair  Kingston  burns,  and  York's  delightful  fanes, 
And  beauteous  Norfolk  lights  the  neighbouring  plains; 
From  realm  to  realm  the  smoky  volumes  bend, 
Reach  round  the  bays  and  up  the  streams  extend ; 


JOEL  BARLOW  423 

Deep  o'er  the  concave  heavy  wreaths  are  roll'd, 

And  midland  towns  and  distant  groves  infold. 

Thro'  the  dark  curls  of  smoke  the  winged  fires 

Climb  in  tall  pyramids  above  the  spires; 

Cinders,  high-sailing,  kindle  heaven  around, 

And  falling  structures  shake  the  smouldering  ground. 

Now,  where  the  sheeted  flames  thro'  Charlestown  roar, 
And  lashing  waves  hiss  round  the  burning  shore, 
Thro'  the  deep  folding  fires,  a  neighbouring  height 
Thunders  o'er  all  and  seems  a  field  of  fight. 
Like  shadowy  phantoms  in  an  evening  grove, 
To  the  dark  strife  the  closing  squadrons  move; 
They  join,  they  break,  they  thicken  thro'  the  air, 
And  blazing  batteries  burst  along  the  war; 
Now,  wrapp'd  in  reddening  smoke,  now  dim  in  sight, 
They  sweep  the  hill  or  wing  the  downward  flight ; 
Here,  wheel'd  and  wedg'd,  whole  ranks  together  turn, 
And  the  long  lightnings  from  their  pieces  burn; 
There  scattering  flashes  light  the  scanty  train, 
And  broken  squadrons  tread  the  moving  plain. 
Britons  in  fresh  battalions  rise  the  height, 
And,  with  increasing  vollies,  give  the  fight. 
Till,  smear 'd  with  clouds  of  dust,  and  bath'd  in  gore, 
As  growing  foes  their  raised  artillery  pour, 
Columbia's  hosts  move  o'er  the  fields  afar, 
And  save,  by  slow  retreat,  the  sad  remains  of  war. 

INDEPENDENCE;  AND   THE   COMING  OF  WAR 

[From  the  "Columbiad"] 

Each  generous  Adams,  freedom's  favorite  pair, 
And  Hancock  rose  the  tyrant's  rage  to  dare, 
Groupt  with  firm  Jefferson,  her  steadiest  hope, 
Of  modest  mien  but  vast  unclouded  scope. 
Like  four  strong  pillars  of  her  state  they  stand, 
They  clear  from  doubt  her  brave  but  wavering  band; 
Colonial  charters  in  their  hands  they  bore 
And  lawless  acts  of  ministerial  power. 


424  EARLY  AMERICAN   WRITERS 

Some  injured  right  in  every  page  appears, 
A  king  in  terrors  and  a  land  in  tears; 
From  all  his  guileful  plots  the  veil  they  drew, 
With  eye  retortive  look'd  creation  thro, 
Traced  moral  nature  thro  her  total  plan, 
Markt  all  the  steps  of  liberty  and  man; 
Crowds  rose  to  reason  while  their  accents  rung, 
And  INDEPENDENCE  thunder'd  from  their  tongue. 

Columbus  turn'd;  when  rolling  to  the  shore 
Swells  o'er  the  seas  an  undulating  roar; 
Slow,  dark,  portentious,  as  the  meteors  sweep 
And  curtain  black  the  illimitable  deep, 
High  stalks,  from  surge  to  surge,  a  demon  Form 
That  howls  thro  heaven  and  breathes  a  billowing  storm. 
His  head  is  hung  with  clouds;  his  giant  hand 
Flings  a  blue  flame  far  flickering  to  the  land; 
His  blood-stain'd  limbs  drip  carnage  as  he  strides 
And  taint  with  gory  grume  the  staggering  tides; 
Like  two  red  suns  his  quivering  eyeballs  glare, 
His  mouth  disgorges  all  the  stores  of  war, 
Pikes,  muskets,  mortars,  guns  and  globes  of  fire 
And  lighted  bombs  that  fusing  trails  expire. 
Percht  on  his  helmet,  two  twin  sisters  rode, 
The  favorite  offspring  of  the  murderous  god, 
Famine  and  Pestilence;  whom  whilom  bore 
His  wife,  grim  Discord,  on  Trinacria's  shore: 
When  first  their  cyclop  sons,  from  Etna's  forge, 
FilPd  his  foul  magazine,  his  gaping  gorge: 
Then  earth  convulsive  groan'd,  high  shriek'd  the  air, 
And  hell  in  gratulation  call'd  him  War. 

Behind  the  fiend,  swift  hovering  for  the  coast, 
Hangs  o'er  the  wave  Britannia's  sail-wing'd  host; 
They  crowd  the  main,  they  spread  their  sheets  abroad 
From  the  wide  Laurence  to  the  Georgian  flood, 
Point  their  black  batteries  to  the  peopled  shore, 
And  spouting  flames  commence  the  hideous  roar. 

Where  fortless  Falmouth,  looking  o'er  her  bay, 
In  terror  saw  the  approaching  thunders  play, 


JOEL  BARLOW  425 

The  fire  begins;  the  shells  o'er-arching  fly 
And  shoot  a  thousand  rainbows  thro  the  sky; 
On  Charlestown  spires,  on  Bedford  roofs  they  light, 
Groton  and  Fairfield  kindle  from  the  flight, 
Norwalk  expands  the  blaze;  o'er  Reading  hills 
High  flaming  Danbury  the  welkin  fills; 
Esopus  burns,  Newyork's  delightful  fanes 
And  sea-nursed  Norfolk  light  the  neighboring  plains. 
From  realm  to  realm  the  smoky  volumes  bend, 
Reach  round  the  bays  and  up  the  streams  extend; 
Deep  o'er  the  concave  heavy  wreaths  are  roll'd, 
And  midland  towns  and  distant  groves  infold. 

Thro  solid  curls  of  smoke  the  bursting  fires 
Climb  in  tall  pyramids  above  the  spires, 
Concentring  all  the  winds;  whose  forces,  driven 
With  equal  rage  from  every  point  of  heaven, 
Whirl  into  conflict,  round  the  scantling  pour 
The  twisting  flames  and  thro  the  rafters  roar, 
Suck  up  the  cinders,  send  them  sailing  far, 
To  warn  the  nations  of  the  raging  war, 
Bend  high  the  blazing  vortex,  swell'd  and  curl'd, 
Careering,  brightening  o'er  the  lustred  world, 
Absorb  the  reddening  clouds  that  round  them  run, 
Lick  the  pale  stars  and  mock  their  absent  sun: 
Seas  catch  the  splendor,  kindling  skies  resound, 
And  falling  structures  shake  the  smoldering  ground. 

Crowds  of  wild  fugitives,  with  frantic  tread, 
Flit  thro  the  flames  that  pierce  the  midnight  shade, 
Back  on  the  burning  domes  revert  their  eyes, 
Where  some  lost  friend,  some  perisht  infant  lies. 
Their  maim'd,  their  sick,  their  age-enfeebled  sires 
Have  sunk  sad  victims  to  the  sateless  fires; 
They  greet  with  one  last  look  their  tottering  walls, 
See  the  blaze  thicken  as  the  ruin  falls, 
Then  o'er  the  country  train  their  dumb  despair 
And  far  behind  them  leave  the  dancing  glare; 
Their  own  crusht  roofs  still  lend  a  trembling  light, 
Point  their  long  shadows  and  direct  their  flight. 


426  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

Till  wandering  wide  they  seek  some  cottage  door, 
Ask  the  vile  pittance  due  the  vagrant  poor; 
Or  faint  and  faltering  on  the  devious  road, 
They  sink  at  last  and  yield  their  mortal  load. 

But  where  the  sheeted  flames  thro  Charlestown  roar, 
And  lashing  waves  hiss  round  the  burning  shore, 
Thro  the  deep  folding  fires  dread  Bunker's  height 
Thunders  o'er  all  and  shows  a  field  of  fight. 
Like  nightly  shadows  thro  a  flaming  grove, 
To  the  dark  fray  the  closing  squadrons  move; 
They  join,  they  break,  they  thicken  thro  the  glare, 
And  blazing  batteries  burst  along  the  war; 
Now  wrapt  in  reddening  smoke,  now  dim  in  sight, 
They  rake  the  hill  or  wing  the  downward  flight; 
Here,  wheel'd  and  wedged,  Britannia's  veterans  turn 
And  the  long  lightnings  from  their  muskets  burn; 
There  scattering  strive  the  thin  colonial  train, 
Whose  broken  platoons  still  the  field  maintain; 
Till  Britain's  fresh  battalions  rise  the  height 
And  with  increasing  vollies  give  the  fight. 
When,  choked  with  dust,  discolor'd  deep  in  gore 
And  gall'd  on  all  sides  from  the  ships  and  shore, 
Hesperia's  host  moves  off  the  field  afar 
And  saves,  by  slow  retreat,  the  sad  remains  of  war. 

HYMN  TO   PEACE 

[From  the  "Vision  of  Columbus"] 

Hail  sacred  Peace,  who  claim'st  thy  bright  abode 
Mid  circling  saints  that  grace  the  throne  of  God ! 
Before  his  arm,  around  the  shapeless  earth, 
Stretch'd  the  wide  heavens  and  gave  to  nature  birth; 
Ere  morning-stars  his  glowing  chambers  hung, 
Or  songs  of  gladness  woke  an  angel's  tongue, 
Veil'd  in  the  brightness  of  the  Almighty's  mind, 
In  blest  repose  thy  placid  form  reclined; 
Borne  through  the  heavens  with  his  creating  voice, 
Thy  presence  bade  the  unfolding  worlds  rejoice, 


JOEL  BARLOW  427 

Gave  to  seraphic  harps  their  sounding  lays, 
Their  joys  to  angels,  and  to  men  their  praise. 

From  scenes  of  blood,  these  beauteous  shores  that  stain, 
From  gasping  friends  that  press  the  sanguine  plain, 
From  fields,  long  taught  in  vain  thy  flight  to  mourn, 
I  rise,  delightful  Power,  and  greet  thy  glad  return. 
Too  long  the  groans  of  death,  and  battle's  bray, 
Have  rung  discordant  through  the  unpleasing  lay: 
Let  pity's  tear  its  balmy  fragrance  shed, 
O'er  heroes'  wounds  and  patriot  warriors  dead; 
Accept,  departed  shades,  these  grateful  sighs, 
Your  fond  attendants  to  the  approving  skies. 

And  thou,  my  earliest  friend,  my  Brother  dear, 
Thy  fall  untimely  wakes  the  tender  tear. 
In  youthful  sports,  in  toils,  in  blood  allied, 
My  kind  companion  and  my  hopeful  guide, 
When  Heaven's  sad  summons,  from  our  infant  eyes 
Had  calPd  our  last,  loved  parent  to  the  skies. 
Tho'  young  in  arms,  and  still  obscure  thy  name, 
Thy  bosom  panted  for  the  deeds  of  fame, 
Beneath  Montgomery's  eye,  when,  by  thy  steel, 
In  northern  wilds,  the  lurking  savage  fell. 
Yet,  hapless  Youth !  when  thy  great  Leader  bled, 
Thro'  the  same  wound  thy  parting  spirit  fled. 

But  now  the  untuneful  trump  shall  grate  no  more, 
Ye  silver  streams  no  longer  swell  with  gore; 
Bear  from  your  beauteous  banks  the  crimson  stain, 
With  yon  retiring  navies,  to  the  main. 
While  other  views  unfolding  on  my  eyes, 
And  happier  themes  bid  bolder  numbers  rise: 
Bring,  bounteous  Peace,  in  thy  celestial  throng; 
Life  to  my  soul,  and  rapture  to  my  song; 
Give  me  to  trace,  with  pure  unclouded  ray, 
The  arts  and  virtues  that  attend  thy  sway; 
To  see  thy  blissful  charms,  that  here  descend, 
Through  distant  realms  and  endless  years  extend. 


428  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

A  FAVORITE  DISH 

[From  "The  Hasty  Pudding"] 

Dear  Hasty  Pudding,  what  unpromised  joy 
Expands  my  heart,  to  meet  thee  in  Savoy ! 
Doom'd  o'er  the  world  through  devious  paths  to  roam, 
Each  clime  my  country,  and  each  house  my  home, 
My  soul  is  soothed,  my  cares  have  found  an  end, 
I  greet  my  long  lost,  unforgotten  friend. 

For  thee  through  Paris,  that  corrupted  town, 
How  long  in  vain  I  wandered  up  and  down, 
Where  shameless  Bacchus,  with  his  drenching  hoard, 
Cold  from  his  cave  usurps  the  morning  board. 
London  is  lost  in  smoke  and  steep 'd  in  tea; 
No  Yankee  there  can  lisp  the  name  of  thee; 
The  uncouth  word,  a  libel  on  the  town, 
Would  call  a  proclamation  from  the  crown. 
From  climes  oblique,  that  fear  the  sun's  full  rays, 
ChilFd  in  their  fogs,  exclude  the  generous  maize: 
A  grain,  whose  rich,  luxuriant  growth  requires 
Short  gentle  showers,  and  bright  etherial  fires. 

But  here,  though  distant  from  our  native  shore, 
With  mutual  glee,  we  meet  and  laugh  once  more, 
The  same !    I  know  thee  by  that  yellow  face, 
That  strong  complexion  cf  true  Indian  race, 
Which  time  can  never  change,  nor  soil  impair, 
Nor  Alpine  snows,  nor  Turkey's  morbid  air; 
For  endless  years,  through  every  mild  domain, 
Where  grows  the  maize,  there  thou  art  sure  to  reign. 

But  man,  more  fickle,  the  bold  license  claims, 
In  different  realms  to  give  thee  different  names. 
Thee  the  soft  nations  round  the  warm  Levant 
Polenta  call,  the  French  of  course  Polente. 
E'en  in  thy  native  regions,  how  I  blush 
To  hear  the  Pennsylvanians  call  thee  Mush! 
On  Hudson's  banks,  while  men  of  Belgic  spaw 
Insult  and  eat  thee  by  the  name  Suppawn. 


JOEL   BARLOW  429 

All  spurious  appellations,  void  of  truth; 
I've  better  known  thee  from  my  earliest  youth, 
Thy  name  is  Hasty-Pudding!  thus  my  sire 
Was  wont  to  greet  thee  fuming  from  his  fire; 
And  while  he  argued  in  thy  just  defence 
With  logic  clear,  he  thus  explain'd  the  sense:  — 
"In  Jiaste  the  boiling  cauldron,  o'er  the  blaze, 
Receives  and  cooks  the  ready  powder'd  maize; 
In  haste  'tis  served,  and  then  in  equal  haste, 
With  cooling  milk,  we  make  the  sweet  repast. 
No  caning  to  be  done,  no  knife  to  grate 
The  tender  ear,  and  wound  the  stony  plate; 
But  the  smooth  spoon,  just  fitted  to  the  lip, 
And  taught  with  art  the  yielding  mass  to  dip, 
By  frequent  journeys  to  the  bowl  well  stored, 
Performs  the  hasty  honors  of  the  board." 
Such  is  thy  name,  significant  and  clear, 
A  name,  a  sound  to  every  Yankee  dear, 
But  most  to  me,  whose  heart  and  palate  chaste 
Preserve  my  pure  hereditary  taste. 

There  are  who  strive  to  stamp  with  disrepute 
The  luscious  food,  because  it  feeds  the  brute; 
In  tropes  of  high-strain'd  wit,  while  gaudy  prigs 
Compare  thy  nursling,  man,  to  pamper'd  pigs; 
With  sovereign  scorn  I  treat  the  vulgar  jest, 
Nor  fear  to  share  thy  bounties  with  the  beast. 
What  though  the  generous  cow  gives  me  to  quaff 
The  milk  nutritious:  am  I  then  a  calf? 
Or  can  the  genius  of  the  noisy  swine, 
Though  nursed  on  pudding,  claim  a  kin  to  mine? 
Sure  the  sweet  song,  I  fashion  to  thy  praise, 
Runs  more  melodious  than  the  notes  they  raise. 

My  song  resounding  in  its  grateful  glee, 
No  merit  claims:  I  praise  myself  in  thee. 
My  father  loved  thee  through  his  length  of  days ! 
For  thee  his  fields  were  shaded  o'er  with  maize; 
From  thee  what  health,  what  vigor  he  possess'd, 
Ten  sturdy  freemen  from  his  loins  attest; 


430  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

Thy  constellation  ruled  my  natal  morn, 
And  all  my  bones  were  made  of  Indian  corn. 
Delicious  grain !  whatever  form  it  take, 
To  roast  or  boil,  to  smother  or  to  bake, 
In  every  dish  'tis  welcome  still  to  me, 
But  most,  my  Hasty  Pudding,  most  in  thee. 


PHILIP   FREXEAU 

[While  the  names  of  most  eighteenth-century  American  verse-writers  have 
passed  into  obscurity,  if  not  into  oblivion,  the  fame  of  Philip  Freneau  has  in 
creased,  until  he  now  takes  almost  unquestioned  rank  as  the  most  notable 
American  poet  before  Bryant.  He  was  born  in  1752,  in  New  York  City. 
In  1771  he  was  graduated  from  Princeton  in  the  same  class  as  James  Madi 
son  and  H.  H.  Brackenridge.  As  an  undergraduate  he  made  satiric  and 
other  rhymes,  and  collaborated  with  Brackenridge  on  a  novel;  and  he  was 
part  author  of  a  poem,  "The  Rising  Glory  of  America,"  spoken  by  Bracken 
ridge  at  commencement.  After  his  graduation  he  taught  school  for  a  time. 
Early  in  1775  he  wrote  a  number  of  bitter  satires  on  political  topics.  From 
the  latter  part  of  1775  to  1778  he  was  in  the  West  Indies,  and  it  was  appar 
ently  on  his  outward  voyage  that  he  first  felt  the  charm  of  the  sailor's  life. 
During  much  of  the  time  from  1778  to  1790  he  was  on  the  ocean.  In  1780  he 
was  on  board  a  vessel  that  was  captured  by  the  British,  and  he  was  impris 
oned  for  some  time  in  the  notorious  British  prison  ships  in  New  York  harbor. 
His  experiences  here  form  the  basis  of  one  of  his  most  vindictive  poems. 
After  his  release  he  was  for  some  time  master  of  a  vessel  engaged  in  the  coast 
ing  trade.  During  all  this  time  he  was  writing,  and  contributing  to  various 
journals.  In  1790  he  married,  and  left  the  sea  to  become  editor  of  a  paper 
in  New  York.  The  next  year  he  removed  to  Philadelphia  to  accept  from 
Jefferson  the  clerkship  for  foreign  languages  in  the  department  of  state,  and 
to  begin  the  issue  of  The  National  Gazette.  This  paper  was  violently  repub 
lican  and  pro-French,  and  the  Federalists  accused  Jefferson  of  retaining  Fre 
neau  in  a  government  position  and  inciting  him  to  make  unwarranted  at 
tacks  on  other  members  of  the  government.  It  does  not  appear  that  these 
charges  were  true,  but  Freneau  was  foolishly  indiscreet,  and  he  was  forced 
to  abandon  the  Gazette  in  1793.  After  this  he  edited  other  papers  for  short 
periods  of  time,  went  to  sea  again,  and  reprinted  some  of  his  writings.  He 
died  in  1832. 

Freneau  was  a  voluminous  writer.  The  latest  collection  of  his  poetical 
works  fills  three  large  volumes,  and  the  editor  gives  more  than  a  hundred 
titles  of  omitted  poems.  His  political  satires  were  popular  at  a  time  when 
feeling  was  intense,  and  for  many  years  they  were  the  portion  of  his  writings 
most  readily  accessible  to  students.  For  this  reason  he  gained  the  designa 
tion,  unfortunately  perpetuated  by  his  latest  editor,  of  "Poet  of  the  American 
Revolution."  It  is  really  not,  however,  the  political  poems  that  have  led 
to  the  recent  recognition  of  Freneau's  worth.  He  combined,  somewhat 
strangely,  a  capacity  for  the  most  bitter,  violent,  and  unreasoning  hatred, 


432  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

a  vivid  poetic  imagination,  and  a  genuine  feeling  for  nature.  His  political 
pieces  are  mostly  the  sort  of  satire  that  abounds  in  invective,  and  that  is 
unrelieved  by  humor.  Some  of  his  earlier  work,  especially  "The  House  of 
Night,"  written  during  his  first  visit  to  the  West  Indies,  reveals  his  powers  of 
imagination;  and  some  poems  of  later  date,  such  as  "The  Wild  Honey 
Suckle"  and  "The  Indian  Burying  Ground,"  show  an  admirable  delicacy 
and  lightness  of  touch.  It  is  by  these,  and  not  by  his  tirades  against  the  Brit 
ish,  that  he  should  be  judged. 

With  the  revival  of  interest  in  Freneau's  work  has  come,  naturally,  a 
tendency  to  overpraise.  He  was  not  a  great,  or  a  highly  original,  poet.  All 
his  better  work  shows  obvious  influences  of  his  English  masters,  prominent 
among  whom  were  Milton  and  Gray.  It  is  not  especially  significant  that 
Campbell  and  Scott  each  borrowed  a  good  line  from  his  works.  It  is  not 
able,  however,  that  in  the  most  troubled  time  in  American  history  he  wrote 
some  poems  that  were  full  of  quiet  idealism,  and  that  he  showed  the  romantic 
tendency  at  least  as  strongly  as  any  of  his  English  contemporaries. 

Freneau  published  collections  of  his  poems  in  1786,  1788,  1795,  1809, 
and  1815,  besides  many  single  poems  in  pamphlets  and  broadsides.  A  col 
lection  of  "Poems  relating  to  the  American  Revolution"  was  edited  by  Evert 
A.  Duyckinck  in  1865.  The  selections  here  given  are  from  the  only  ade 
quate  edition  of  his  poems,  that  prepared  by  Professor  Fred  Lewis  Pattee 
and  issued  in  three  volumes  at  Princeton  in  1902-1907.] 


A  DREAM-PICTURE 

[From  "The  House  of  Night"] 

By  some  sad  means,  when  Reason  holds  no  sway, 
Lonely  I  rov'd  at  midnight  o'er  a  plain 
Where  murmuring  streams  and  mingling  rivers  flow 
Far  to  their  springs,  or  seek  the  sea  again. 

Sweet  vernal  May !  tho'  then  thy  woods  in  bloom 
Flourish 'd,  yet  nought  of  this  could  Fancy  see, 
No  wild  pinks  bless'd  the  meads,  no  green  the  fields, 
And  naked  seem'd  to  stand  each  lifeless  tree: 

Dark  was  the  sky,  and  not  one  friendly  star 
Shone  from  the  zenith  or  horizon,  clear, 
Mist  sate  upon  the  woods,  and  darkness  rode 
In  her  black  chariot,  with  a  wild  career. 


PHILIP  FRENEAU  433 

And  from  the  woods  the  late  resounding  note 
Issued  of  the  loquacious  Whip-poor-will,1 
Hoarse,  howling  dogs,  and  nightly  roving  wolves 
Clamour'd  from  far  off  cliffs  invisible. 

Rude,  from  the  wide  extended  Chesapeke 
I  heard  the  winds  the  dashing  waves  assail, 
And  saw  from  far,  by  picturing  fancy  form'd, 
The  black  ship  travelling  through  the  noisy  gale. 

At  last,  by  chance  and  guardian  fancy  led, 
I  reach'd  a  noble  dome,  rais'd  fair  and  high, 
And  saw  the  light  from  upper  windows  flame, 
Presage  of  mirth  and  hospitality. 

And  by  that  light  around  the  dome  appear'd 
A  mournful  garden  of  autumnal  hue, 
Its  lately  pleasing  flowers  all  drooping  stood 
Amidst  high  weeds  that  in  rank  plenty  grew. 

The  Primrose  there,  the  violet  darkly  blue, 
Daisies  and  fair  Narcissus  ceas'd  to  rise, 
Gay  spotted  pinks  their  charming  bloom  withdrew, 
And  Polyanthus  quench 'd  its  thousand  dyes. 

No  pleasant  fruit  or  blossom  gaily  smil'd, 
Nought  but  unhappy  plants  or  trees  were  seen, 
The  yew,  the  myrtle,  and  the  church-yard  elm, 
The  cypress,  with  its  melancholy  green. 

There  cedars  dark,  the  osier,  and  the  pine, 
Shorn  Tamarisks,  and  weeping  willows  grew, 
The  poplar  tall,  the  lotos,  and  the  lime, 
And  pyracantha  did  her  leaves  renew. 

1  A  bird  peculiar  to  America,  of  a  solitary  nature,  who  never  sings  but  in  the 
night.     Her  note  resembles  the  name  given  to  her  by  the  country  people. 

2F 


434  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

The  poppy  there,  companion  to  repose, 
Display'd  her  blossoms  that  began  to  fall, 
And  here  the  purple  amaranthus  rose 
With  mint  strong-scented,  for  the  funeral. 

And  here  and  there  with  laurel  shrubs  between 
A  tombstone  lay,  inscrib'd  with  strains  of  woe, 
And  stanzas  sad,  throughout  the  dismal  green, 
Lamented  for  the  dead  that  slept  below. 


THE   CAPTAIN   OF  THE  HOSPITAL   SHIP 

[From  "The  British  Prison  Ship"] 

From  this  poor  vessel,  and  her  sickly  crew 
An  English  ruffian  all  his  titles  drew, 
Captain,  esquire,  commander,  too,  in  chief, 
And  hence  he  gain'd  his  bread,  and  hence  his  beef, 
But,  sir,  you  might  have  search'd  creation  round 
Ere  such  another  miscreant  could  be  found  — 
Though  unprovok'd,  an  angry  face  he  bore, 
We  stood  astonish'd  at  the  oaths  he  swore; 
He  swore,  till  every  prisoner  stood  aghast, 
And  thought  him  Satan  in  a  brimstone  blast; 
He  wish'd  us  banish 'd  from  the  public  light, 
He  wish'd  us  shrouded  in  perpetual  night ! 
That  were  he  king,  no  mercy  would  he  show, 
But  drive  all  rebels  to  the  world  below; 
That  if  we  scoundrels  did  not  scrub  the  decks 
His  staff  should  break  our  damn'd  rebellious  necks; 
He  swore,  besides,  that  if  the  ship  took  fire 
We  too  should  in  the  pitchy  flames  expire; 
And  meant  it  so  —  this  tyrant,  I  engage, 
Had  lost  his  breath  to  gratify  his  rage.  — 

If  where  he  walk'd  a  captive  carcase  lay, 
Still  dreadful  was  the  language  of  the  day  — 
He  call'd  us  dogs,  and  would  have  us'd  us  so, 
But  vengeance  check'd  the  meditated  blow, 


PHILIP  FRENEAU  435 

The  vengeance  from  our  injur'd  nation  due 
To  him,  and  all  the  base,  unmanly  crew. 

Such  food  they  sent,  to  make  complete  our  woes, 
It  look'd  like  carrion  torn  from  hungry  crows, 
Such  vermin  vile  on  every  joint  were  seen, 
So  black,  corrupted,  mortified,  and  lean 
That  once  we  try'd  to  move  our  flinty  chief, 
And  thus  address'd  him,  holding  up  the  beef : 

"See,  captain,  see!   what  rotten  bones  we  pick, 
" What  kills  the  healthy  cannot  cure  the  sick: 
"Not  dogs  on  such  by  Christian  men  are  fed, 
"And  see,  good  master,  see,  what  lousy  bread!" 

"Your  meat  or  bread  (this  man  of  flint  replied) 
"Is  not  my  care  to  manage  or  provide  — 
"But  this,  damn'd  rebel  dogs,  I'd  have  you  know, 
"That  better  than  you  merit  we  bestow; 
"  Out  of  my  sight ! "  —  nor  more  he  deign'd  to  say, 
But  whisk'd  about,  and  frowning,  strode  away. 

THE   CHARACTER   OF   CORNWALLIS 

[From  a  poem  "On  the  Fall  of  General  Earl  Cornwallis"] 

A  Chieftain  join'd  with  Howe,  Burgoyne,  and  Gage, 
Once  more,  nor  this  the  last,  provokes  my  rage  — 
Who  saw  these  Nimrods  first  for  conquest  burn ! 
Who  has  not  seen  them  to  the  dust  return? 
This  ruffian  next,  who  scour'd  our  ravag'd  fields, 
Foe  to  the  human  race,  Cornwallis  yields !  — 
None  e'er  before  essay'd  such  desperate  crimes, 
Alone  he  stood,  arch-butcher  of  the  times, 
Rov'd  uncontroul'd  this  wasted  country  o'er, 
Strew'd  plains  with  dead,  and  bath'd  his  jaws  with  gore. 

'Twas  thus  the  wolf,  who  sought  by  night  his  prey, 
And  plunder'd  all  he  met  with  on  his  way, 
Stole  what  he  could,  and  murder'd  as  he  pass'd, 
Chanc'd  on  a  trap,  and  lost  his  head  at  last. 

What  pen  can  write,  what  human  tongue  can  tell 
The  endless  murders  of  this  man  of  hell ! 


436  EARLY  AMERICAN   WRITERS 

Nature  in  him  disgrac'd  the  form  divine; 

Nature  mistook,  she  meant  him  for  a  — swine: 

That  eye  his  forehead  to  her  shame  adorns; 

Blush  !  nature,  blush  —  bestow  him  tail  and  horns !  - 

By  him  the  orphans  mourn  —  the  widow'd  dame 

Saw  ruin  spreading  in  the  wasteful  flame ; 

Gash'd  o'er  with  wounds  beheld  with  streaming  eye 

A  son,  a  brother,  or  a  consort,  die !  — 

Through  ruin'd  realms  bones  lie  without  a  tomb, 

And  souls  he  sped  to  their  eternal  doom, 

Who  else  had  h'v'd,  and  seen  their  toils  again 

Bless'd  by  the  genius  of  the  rural  reign. 

But  turn  your  eyes,  and  see  the  murderer  fall, 
Then  say  —  "Cornwallis  has  atchiev'd  it  all."  — 
Yet  he  preserves  the  honour  and  the  fame 
That  vanquished  heroes  only  ought  to  claim  — 
Is  he  a  hero !  —  Read,  and  you  will  find 
Heroes  are  beings  of  a  different  kind :  — 
Compassion  to  the  worst  of  men  is  due, 
And  mercy  heaven's  first  attribute,  'tis  true; 
Yet  most  presume  it  was  too  nobly  done 
To  grant  mild  terms  to  Satan's  first-born  son. 

Convinc'd  we  are,  no  foreign  spot  on  earth 
But  Britain  only,  gave  this  reptile  birth, 
That  white-cliff'd  isle,  the  vengeful  dragon's  den, 
Has  sent  us  monsters  where  we  look'd  for  men. 
When  memory  paints  their  horrid  deeds  anew, 
And  brings  these  murdering  miscreants  to  your  view, 
Then  ask  the  leaders  of  these  bloody  bands, 
Can  they  expect  compassion  at  our  hands  ?  — 

But  may  this  year,  the  glorious  eighty-one, 
Conclude  successful,  as  it  first  begun ; 
This  brilliant  year  their  total  downfall  see, 
And  what  Cornwallis  is,  may  Clinton  be. 


PHILIP  FRENEAU  437 

TO  THE  MEMORY  OF  THE  BRAVE  AMERICANS 
UNDER  GENERAL  GREENE,  IN  SOUTH  CAROLINA, 
WHO  FELL  IN  THE  ACTION  OF  SEPTEMBER  8,  1781 

At  Eutaw  Springs  the  valiant  died; 

Their  limbs  with  dust  are  covered  o'er  — 
Weep  on,  ye  springs,  your  tearful  tide; 

How  many  heroes  are  no  more ! 

If  in  this  wreck  of  ruin,  they 

Can  yet  be  thought  to  claim  a  tear, 
O  smite  your  gentle  breast,  and  say 

The  friends  of  freedom  slumber  here ! 

Thou,  who  shalt  trace  this  bloody  plain, 
If  goodness  rules  thy  generous  breast, 

Sigh  for  the  wasted  rural  reign; 
Sigh  for  the  shepherds,  sunk  to  rest ! 

Stranger,  their  humble  graves  adorn; 

You  too  may  fall,  and  ask  a  tear; 
'Tis  not  the  beauty  of  the  morn 

That  proves  the  evening  shall  be  clear.  — 

They  saw  their  injured  country's  woe; 

The  flaming  town,  the  wasted  field; 
Then  rushed  to  meet  the  insulting  foe; 

They  took  the  spear  —  but  left  the  shield. 

Led  by  thy  conquering  genius,  Greene, 

The  Britons  they  compelled  to  fly; 
None  distant  viewed  the  fatal  plain, 

None  grieved,  in  such  a  cause  to  die  — 

But,  like  the  Parthian,  famed  of  old, 

\Vho,  flying,  still  their  arrows  threw, 
These  routed  Britons,  full  as  bold, 

Retreated,  and  retreating  slew. 


438  EARLY  AMERICAN   WRITERS 

Now  rest  in  peace,  our  patriot  band ; 

Though  far  from  nature's  limits  thrown, 
We  trust  they  find  a  happier  land, 

A  brighter  sunshine  of  their  own. 

TO  SIR  TOBY,  A  SUGAR  PLANTER  IN  THE  INTE 
RIOR  PARTS  OF  JAMAICA,  NEAR  THE  CITY  OF  SAN 
JAGO  DE  LA  VEGA  (SPANISH  TOWN),  1784 

"The  motions  of  his  spirit  are  black  as  night, 
And  his  affections  dark  as  Erebus." 

—  SHAKESPEARE. 

If  there  exists  a  hell  —  the  case  is  clear  — 
Sir  Toby's  slaves  enjoy  that  portion  here: 
Here  are  no  blazing  brimstone  lakes  —  'tis  true ; 
But  kindled  Rum  too  often  burns  as  blue ; 
In  which  some  fiend,  whom  nature  must  detest, 
Steeps  Toby's  brand,  and  marks  poor  Cudjoe's  breast.1 

Here  whips  on  whips  excite  perpetual  fears, 
And  mingled  bowlings  vibrate  on  my  ears: 
Here  nature's  plagues  abound,  to  fret  and  teaze, 
Snakes,  scorpions,  despots,  lizards,  centipees  — 
No  art,  no  care  escapes  the  busy  lash ; 
All  have  their  dues  —  and  all  are  paid  in  cash  — 
The  eternal  driver  keeps  a  steady  eye 
On  a  black  herd,  who  would  his  vengeance  fly, 
But  chained,  imprisoned,  on  a  burning  soil, 
For  the  mean  avarice  of  a  tyrant,  toil ! 
The  lengthy  cart-whip  guards  this  monster's  reign  — 
And  cracks,  like  pistols,  from  the  fields  of  cane. 

Ye  powers !   who  formed  these  wretched  tribes,  relate, 
What  had  they  done,  to  merit  such  a  fate ! 
Why  were  they  brought  from  Eboe's2  sultry  waste, 
To  see  that  plenty  which  they  must  not  taste  — 
Food,  which  they  cannot  buy,  and  dare  not  steal; 

1  This  passage  has  a  reference  to  the  West  India  custom  (sanctioned  by  law) 
of  branding  a  newly  imported  slave  on  the  breast,  with  a  red  hot  iron,  as  an  evi 
dence  of  the  purchaser's  property. 

3  A  small  negro  kingdom  near  the  river  Senegal. 


PHILIP  FRENEAU  439 

Yams  and  potatoes  —  many  a  scanty  meal !  — 

One,  with  a  gibbet  wakes  his  negro's  fears, 
One  to  the  windmill  nails  him  by  the  ears; 
One  keeps  his  slave  in  darkened  dens,  unfed, 
One  puts  the  wretch  in  pickle  ere  he's  dead: 
This,  from  a  tree  suspends  him  by  the  thumbs, 
That,  from  his  table  grudges  even  the  crumbs ! 

O'er  yond'  rough  hills  a  tribe  of  females  go, 
Each  with  her  gourd,  her  infant,  and  her  hoe ; 
Scorched  by  a  sun  that  has  no  mercy  here, 
Driven  by  a  devil,  whom  men  call  overseer  — 
In  chains,  twelve  wretches  to  their  labours  haste; 
Twice  twelve  I  saw,  with  iron  collars  graced !  • — 

Are  such  the  fruits  that  spring  from  vast  domains  ? 
Is  wealth,  thus  got,  Sir  Toby,  worth  your  pains  !  — 
Who  would  your  wealth  on  terms,  like  these,  possess, 
Where  all  we  see  is  pregnant  with  distress  — 
Angola's  natives  scourged  by  ruffian  hands, 
And  toil's  hard  product  shipp'd  to  foreign  lands. 

Talk  not  of  blossoms,  and  your  endless  spring; 
What  joy,  what  smile,  can  scenes  of  misery  bring?  — 
Though  Nature,  here,  has  every  blessing  spread, 
Poor  is  the  labourer  —  and  how  meanly  fed  !  — 

Here  Stygian  paintings  light  and  shade  renew, 
Pictures  of  hell,  that  Virgil's1  pencil  drew: 
Here,  surly  Charons  make  their  annual  trip, 
And  ghosts  arrive  in  every  Guinea  ship, 
To  find  what  beasts  these  western  isles  afford, 
Plutonian  scourges,  and  despotic  lords :  — 

Here,  they,  of  stuff  determined  to  be  free, 
Must  climb  the  rude  cliffs  of  the  Liguanee;2 
Beyond  the  clouds,  in  sculking  haste  repair, 
And  hardly  safe  from  brother  traitors  there.3 

1  See  Eneid,  Book  6th.  — and  F6nelon's  Telemachus,  Book  18. 

2  The  mountains  northward  of  Kingston. 

*  Alluding  to  the  Independent  negroes  in  the  blue  mountains,  who,  for  a  stipu 
lated  reward,  deliver  up  every  fugitive  that  falls  into  their  hands,  to  the  English 
Government. 


440  EARLY  AMERICAN   WRITERS 

THE    WILD    HONEY    SUCKLE 

Fair  flower,  that  dost  so  comely  grow, 
Hid  in  this  silent,  dull  retreat, 
Untouched  thy  honied  blossoms  blow, 
Unseen  thy  little  branches  greet: 

No  roving  foot  shall  crush  thee  here, 

No  busy  hand  provoke  a  tear. 

By  Nature's  self  in  white  arrayed, 
She  bade  thee  shun  the  vulgar  eye, 
And  planted  here  the  guardian  shade, 
And  sent  soft  waters  murmuring  by; 

Thus  quietly  thy  summer  goes, 

Thy  days  declining  to  repose. 

Smit  with  those  charms,  that  must  decay, 

I  grieve  to  see  your  future  doom; 

They  died  —  nor  were  those  flowers  more  gay, 

The  flowers  that  did  in  Eden  bloom; 

Unpitying  frosts,  and  Autumn's  power 
Shall  leave  no  vestige  of  this  flower. 

From  morning  suns  and  evening  dews 
At  first  thy  little  being  came: 
If  nothing  once,  you  nothing  lose, 
For  when  you  die  you  are  the  same; 

The  space  between,  is  but  an  hour, 

The  frail  duration  of  a  flower. 

THE  DEATH  SONG  OF  A  CHEROKEE  INDIAN 

The  sun  sets  in  night,  and  the  stars  shun  the  day, 
But  glory  remains  when  their  lights  fade  away. 
Begin,  ye  tormentors:   your  threats  are  in  vain 
For  the  son  of  Alknomock  can  never  complain. 


PHILIP  FRENEAU  441 

Remember  the  woods,  where  in  ambush  he  lay, 
And  the  scalps  which  he  bore  from  your  nation  away ! 
Why  do  ye  delay  ?  —  'till  I  shrink  from  my  pain  ? 
Know  the  son  of  Alknomock  can  never  complain.. 

Remember  the  arrows  he  shot  from  his  bow, 
Remember  your  chiefs  by  his  hatchet  laid  low, 
The  flame  rises  high,  you  exult  in  my  pain? 
Know  the  son  of  Alknomock  will  never  complain. 

I  go  to  the  land  where  my  father  is  gone: 
His  ghost  shall  rejoice  in  the  fame  of  his  son, 
Death  comes  like  a  friend,  he  relieves  me  from  pain, 
And  thy  son,  O  Alknomock,  has  scorned  to  complain. 

THE   INDIAN  BURYING   GROUND 

In  spite  of  all  the  learned  have  said, 

I  still  my  old  opinion  keep ; 
The  posture,  that  we  give  the  dead, 

Points  out  the  soul's  eternal  sleep. 

Not  so  the  ancients  of  these  lands  — 
The  Indian,  when  from  life  released, 

Again  is  seated  with  his  friends, 
And  shares  again  the  joyous  feast.1 

His  imaged  birds,  and  painted  bowl, 
And  venison,  for  a  journey  dressed, 

Bespeak  the  nature  of  the  soul, 
Activity,  that  knows  no  rest. 

His  bow,  for  action  ready  bent, 

And  arrows,  with  a  head  of  stone, 
Can  only  mean  that  life  is  spent, 

And  not  the  old  ideas  gone. 

1  The  North  American  Indians  bury  their  dead  in  a  sitting  posture;  decorat 
ing  the  corpse  with  wampum,  the  images  of  birds,  quadrupeds,  &c  :  And  (if 
that  of  a  warrior)  with  bows,  arrows,  tomhawks,  and  other  military  weapons. 


442  EARLY  AMERICAN   WRITERS 

Thou,  stranger,  that  shalt  come  this  way, 
No  fraud  upon  the  dead  commit  — 

Observe  the  swelling  turf,  and  say 
They  do  not  lie,  but  here  they  sit. 

Here  still  a  lofty  rock  remains, 

On  which  the  curious  eye  may  trace 

(Now  wasted,  half,  by  wearing  rains) 
The  fancies  of  a  ruder  race. 

Here  still  an  aged  elm  aspires, 
Beneath  whose  far-projecting  shade 

(And  which  the  shepherd  still  admires) 
The  children  of  the  forest  played ! 

There  oft  a  restless  Indian  queen 
(Pale  Shebah,  with  her  braided  hair) 

And  many  a  barbarous  form  is  seen 
To  chide  the  man  that  lingers  there. 

By  midnight  moons,  o'er  moistening  dews ; 

In  habit  for  the  chase  arrayed, 
The  hunter  still  the  deer  pursues, 

The  hunter  and  the  deer,  a  shade ! 

And  long  shall  timorous  fancy  see 
The  painted  chief,  and  pointed  spear, 

And  Reason's  self  shall  bow  the  knee 
To  shadows  and  delusions  here. 


TO  A   DOG 

[Occasioned  by  putting  him  on  shore  at  the  Island  of  Sapola,  for  theft] 

Since  Nature  taught  you,  Tray,  to  be  a  thief, 
What  blame  have  you,  for  working  at  your  trade? 
What  if  you  stole  a  handsome  round  of  beef; 
Theft,  in  your  code  of  laws,  no  crime  was  made. 


PHILIP  FRENEAU 

The  ten  commandments  you  had  never  read, 

Nor  did  it  ever  enter  in  your  head: 

But  art  and  Nature,  careful  to  conceal, 

Disclos'd  not  even  the  Eighth  —  Thou  shall  not  steal. 

Then  to  the  green  wood,  caitiff,  haste  away: 

There  take  your  chance  to  live  —  for  Truth  must  say, 

We  have  no  right,  for  theft,  to  hang  up  Tray. 

ON   THE    SLEEP    OF    PLANTS 

When  suns  are  set,  and  stars  in  view, 
Not  only  man  to  slumber  yields; 
But  Nature  grants  this  blessing  too, 
To  yonder  plants,  in  yonder  fields. 

The  Summer  heats  and  lengthening  days 
(To  them  the  same  as  toil  and  care) 
Thrice  welcome  make  the  evening  breeze, 
That  kindly  does  their  strength  repair. 

At  early  dawn  each  plant  survey, 
And  see,  revived  by  Nature's  hand, 
\Vith  youthful  vigour,  fresh  and  gay, 
Their  blossoms  blow,  their  leaves  expand. 

Yon'  garden  plant,  with  weeds  o'er-run, 
Not  void  of  thought,  perceives  its  hour, 
And,  watchful  of  the  parting  sun, 
Throughout  the  night  conceals  her  flower. 

Like  us,  the  slave  of  cold  and  heat, 

She  too  enjoys  her  little  span  — 

With  Reason,  only  less  complete 

Than  that  which  makes  the  boast  of  man. 

Thus,  moulded  from  one  common  clay, 

A  varied  life  adorns  the  plain; 

By  Nature  subject  to  decay, 

By  Nature  meant  to  bloom  again ! 


443 


444  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

TO    MY    BOOK 

Seven  years  are  now  elaps'd,  dear  rambling  volume, 

Since,  to  all  knavish  wights  a  foe, 

I  sent  you  forth  to  vex  and  gall  'em, 

Or  drive  them  to  the  shades  below : 

With  spirit,  still,  of  Democratic  proof, 

And  still  despising  Shylock's  canker'd  hoof: 

What  doom  the  fates  intend,  is  hard  to  say, 

Whether  to  live  to  some  far-distant  day, 

Or  sickening  in  your  prime, 

In  this  bard-baiting  clime, 

Take  pet,  make  wings,  say  prayers,  and  flit  away. 

"Virtue,  order,  and  religion, 

" Haste,  and  seek  some  other  region; 

"Your  plan  is  laid,  to  hunt  them  down, 

"Destroy  the  mitre,  rend  the  gown, 

"And  that  vile  hag,  Philosophy,  restore"  — 

Did  ever  volume  plan  so  much  before  ? 

For  seven  years  past,  a  host  of  busy  foes 

Have  buzz'd  about  your  nose, 

White,  black,  and  grey,  by  night  and  day; 

Garbling,  lying,  singing,  sighing: 

These  eastern  gales  a  cloud  of  insects  bring 

That  fluttering,  snivelling,  whimpering  —  on  the  wing  - 

And,  wafted  still  as  discord's  demon  guides, 

Flock  round  the  flame,  that  yet  shall  singe  their  hides. 

Well !  let  the  fates  decree  whatever  they  please : 
Whether  you're  doom'd  to  drink  oblivion's  cup, 
Or  Praise- God  Barebones  eats  you  up, 
This  I  can  say,  you've  spread  your  wings  afar, 
Hostile  to  garter,  ribbon,  crown,  and  star; 
Still  on  the  people's,  still  on  Freedom's  side, 
With  full  determin'd  aim,  to  baffle  every  claim 
Of  well-born  wights,  that  aim  to  mount  and  ride. 


PHILIP  FRENEAU  445 


TO    A    CATY-DID1 

In  a  branch  of  willow  hid 
Sings  the  evening  Caty-did: 
From  the  lofty  locust  bough 
Feeding  on  a  drop  of  dew, 
In  her  suit  of  green  array'd 
Hear  her  singing  in  the  shade 

Caty-did,  Caty-did,  Caty-did! 

While  upon  a  leaf  you  tread, 
Or  repose  your  little  head, 
On  your  sheet  of  shadows  laid, 
All  the  day  you  nothing  said: 
Half  the  night  your  cheery  tongue 
Revell'd  out  its  little  song, 

Nothing  else  but  Caty-did. 

From  your  lodgings  on  the  leaf 
Did  you  utter  joy  or  grief  —  ? 
Did  you  only  mean  to  say, 
I  have  had  my  summer's  day, 
And  am  passing,  soon,  away 
To  the  grave  of  Caty-did :  — 

Poor,  unhappy  Caty-did ! 

But  you  would  have  utter'd  more 
Had  you  known  of  nature's  power  — 
From  the  world  when  you  retreat, 
And  a  leaf's  your  winding  sheet, 
Long  before  your  spirit  fled, 
Who  can  tell  but  nature  said, 
Live  again,  my  Caty-did ! 

Live,  and  chatter  Caty-did. 

1  A  well-known  insect,  when  full  grown,  about  two  inches  in  length,  and  of 
the  exact  color  of  a  green  leaf.  It  is  of  the  genus  cicada,  or  grasshopper  kind, 
inhabiting  the  green  foliage  of  trees  and  singing  such  a  song  as  Caty-did  in 
the  evening,  towards  autumn. 


446  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

Tell  me,  what  did  Caty  do? 
Did  she  mean  to  trouble  you  ?  — 
Why  was  Caty  not  forbid 
To  trouble  little  Caty-did?  — 
Wrong,  indeed  at  you  to  fling, 
Hurting  no  one  while  you  sing 

Caty-did!   Caty-did!   Caty-did: 

Why  continue  to  complain  ? 
Caty  tells  me,  she  again 
Will  not  give  you  plague  or  pain :  — 
Caty  says  you  may  be  hid 
Caty  will  not  go  to  bed 
While  you  sing  us  Caty-did. 

Caty-did !     Caty-did !     Caty-did ! 

But,  while  singing,  you  forgot 
To  tell  us  what  did  Caty  not: 
Caty-did  not  think  of  cold, 
Flocks  retiring  to  the  fold, 
Winter,  with  his  wrinkles  old, 
Winter,  that  yourself  foretold 

When  you  gave  us  Caty-did. 

Stay  securely  in  your  nest; 
Caty  now,  will  do  her  best, 
All  she  can,  to  make  you  blest; 
But,  you  want  no  human  aid  — 
Nature,  when  she  form'd  you,  said, 
"Independent  you  are  made, 
My  dear  little  Caty-did : 
Soon  yourself  must  disappear 
With  the  verdure  of  the  year,"  — 
And  to  go,  we  know  not  where, 

With  your  song  of  Caty-did. 


PHILIP  FRENEAU  447 

ON   A   HONEY   BEE   DRINKING   FROM  A   GLASS   OF 
WINE  AND   DROWNED   THEREIN 

Thou,  born  to  sip  the  lake  or  spring, 
Or  quaff  the  waters  of  the  stream, 
Why  hither  come  on  vagrant  wing  ?  — 
Does  Bacchus  tempting  seem  — 
Did  he,  for  you,  this  glass  prepare  ?  — 
Will  I  admit  you  to  a  share? 

Did  storms  harass  or  foes  perplex, 

Did  wasps  or  king-birds  bring  dismay  — 

Did  wars  distress,  or  labours  vex, 

Or  did  you  miss  your  way  ?  — 

A  better  seat  you  could  not  take 

Than  on  the  margin  of  this  lake. 

Welcome  !  —  I  hail  you  to  my  glass : 
All  welcome,  here,  you  find; 
Here,  let  the  cloud  of  trouble  pass, 
Here,  be  all  care  resigned.  — 
This  fluid  never  fails  to  please, 
And  drown  the  griefs  of  men  or  bees. 

What  forced  you  here,  we  cannot  know, 

And  you  will  scarcely  tell  — 

But  cheery  we  would  have  you  go 

And  bid  a  glad  farewell: 

On  lighter  wings  we  bid  you  fly, 

Your  dart  will  now  all  foes  defy. 

Yet  take  not,  oh !   too  deep  to  drink, 

And  in  this  ocean  die; 

Here  bigger  bees  than  you  might  sink, 

Even  bees  full  six  feet  high. 

Like  Pharoah,  then,  you  would  be  said 

To  perish  in  a  sea  of  red. 


EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

Do  as  you  please,  your  will  is  mine ; 

Enjoy  it  without  fear  — 

And  your  grave  will  be  this  glass  of  wine, 

Your  epitaph  —  a  tear  — 

Go,  take  your  seat  in  Charon's  boat, 

We'll  tell  the  hive,  you  died  afloat. 


MINOR    POEMS    OF   THE   REVOLUTION 

[The  songs,  ballads,  and  fugitive  poems  of  the  Revolution  form  an  inter 
esting  collection,  though  few  of  them  are  of  especial  literary  worth.  Even 
the  best  American  national  songs  produced  in  the  succeeding  century  are 
not  ranked  by  impartial  critics  among  the  great  patriotic  poetry  of  the  world ; 
and  it  is  natural  that  these  songs  of  the  Revolution,  written  when  popular 
taste  favored  the  artificial  and  the  bombastic,  should  be  mediocre  in  quality. 
Among  the  more  important  classes  of  poems  produced  at  this  time  are  modi 
fications  or  parodies  of  popular  songs,  rude  ballads  narrating  occurrences  of 
the  conflict,  and  lyrics  intended  to  intensify  feeling.  Work  of  all  these  kinds 
varied  in  tone  from  the  most  seriously  impassioned  to  broad  and  often  coarse 
burlesque.  An  interesting  phenomenon  was  the  acceptance  by  one  party 
of  the  excessive  burlesques  of  the  other,  as  in  the  numerous  versions  of 
"Yankee  Doodle."  As  the  Tories  included  in  their  number  many  of  the 
most  cultured  men  of  the  country,  their  songs  and  occasional  poems  were 
often  more  finished  than  those  of  their  opponents.  The  loyalist  poetry  has, 
however,  been  less  carefully  preserved;  and  as  it  was  largely  in  the  formal 
manner  preferred  by  an  eighteenth-century  gentleman  it  is  somewhat  less 
interesting  than  the  rough  and  ready  verse  of  the  patriots.  The  selections 
given  below  show  various  forms  of  this  popular  poetry.  "The  Liberty  Song," 
by  John  Dickinson,  resulted  from  an  attempt,  on  trie  part  of  a  publicist  who 
had  neither  the  poetic  temperament  nor  skill  in  versification,  to  manufacture 
a  patriotic  song.  "The  American  Hero,"  called  by  its  author  "A  Sapphic 
Ode,"  was  the  work  of  a  scholarly  minister  and  theologian.  Loyalist 
poetry  is  represented  by  an  anonymous  song,  "  The  British  Light-Infantry," 
and  a  selection  from  "The  Congratulation,"  by  Dr.  Jonathan  Odell.  "The 
Yankee's  Return  from  Camp"  is  perhaps  the  best- known  version  of  the 
"Yankee  Doodle"  song.  The  other  anonymous  poems  illustrate  various 
kinds  of  popular  songs.  The  ballad  of  "Nathan  Hale"  has,  in  parts,  a  real 
poetic  quality. 

"The  British  Light-Infantry"  is  from  "The  Loyalist  Poetry  of  the  Revo 
lution,"  edited  by  Winthrop  Sargent.  The  selection  from  "The  Con 
gratulation"  is  from  the  same  editor's  collection,  "The  Loyal  Verses  of 
Joseph  Stansbury  and  Doctor  Jonathan  Odell."  "The  Yankee's  Return 
from  Camp"  follows  a  broadside  issued  by  Isaiah  Thomas  in  1813,  as 
reprinted  in  Duyckinck's  "Cyclopaedia  of  American  Literature."  "The 
American  Hero  "  is  also  copied  from  the  last-named  source.  The  other  se 
lections  are  taken  from  Moore's  "Songs  and  Ballads  of  the  American  Revo 
lution."] 

2G  449 


450  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

THE   LIBERTY    SONG 

[By  John  Dickinson.     1768] 

Come  join  hand  in  hand,  brave  Americans  all, 
And  rouse  your  bold  hearts  at  fair  Liberty's  call ; 
No  tyrannous  acts,  shall  suppress  your  just  claim, 
Nor  stain  with  dishonor  America's  name. 

In  freedom  we're  born,  and  in  freedom  we'll  live; 
Our  purses  are  ready, 
Steady,  Friends,  steady, 
Not  as  slaves,  but  as  freemen  our  money  we'll  give. 

Our  worthy  forefathers  —  let's  give  them  a  cheer  — 
To  climates  unknown  did  courageously  steer; 
Thro'  oceans  to  deserts,  for  freedom  they  came, 
And,  dying,  bequeath 'd  us  their  freedom  and  fame. 

Their  generous  bosoms  all  dangers  despis'd, 
So  highly,  so  wisely,  their  birthrights  they  priz'd; 
We'll  keep  what  they  gave,  we  will  piously  keep, 
Nor  frustrate  their  toils  on  the  land  or  the  deep. 

The  Tree,  their  own  hands  had  to  Liberty  rear'd, 
They  lived  to  behold  growing  strong  and  rever'd; 
With  transport  then  cried,  —  "Now  our  wishes  we  gain, 
For  our  children  shall  gather  the  fruits  of  our  pain." 

How  sweet  are  the  labors  that  freemen  endure, 
That  they  shall  enjoy  all  the  profit,  secure,  — 
No  more  such  sweet  labors  Americans  know, 
If  Britons  shall  reap  what  Americans  sow. 

Swarms  of  placemen  and  pensioners  soon  will  appear, 
Like  locusts  deforming  the  charms  of  the  year: 
Suns  vainly  will  rise,  showers  vainly  descend, 
If  we  are  to  drudge  for  what  others  shall  spend. 


MINOR  POEMS   OF   THE  REVOLUTION  451 

Then  join  hand  in  hand  brave  Americans  all, 
By  uniting  we  stand,  by  dividing  we  fall ; 
In  so  righteous  a  cause  let  us  hope  to  succeed, 
For  Heaven  approves  of  each  generous  deed. 

All  ages  shall  speak  with  amaze  and  applause, 
Of  the  courage  we'll  show  in  support  of  our  laws; 
To  die  we  can  bear,  —  but  to  serve  we  disdain, 
For  shame  is  to  freemen  more  dreadful  than  pain. 

This  bumper  I  crown  for  our  sovereign's  health, 
And  this  for  Britannia's  glory  and  wealth; 
That  wealth,  and  that  glory  immortal  may  be, 
If  she  is  but  just,  and  we  are  but  free. 
In  freedom  we're  born,  &c. 

VIRGINIA  BANISHING  TEA 

[By  a  young  woman  of  Virginia.     1774] 

Begone,  pernicious,  baneful  tea, 

With  all  Pandora's  ills  possessed, 
Hyson,  no  more  beguiled  by  thee 

My  noble  sons  shall  be  oppressed. 

To  Britain  fly,  where  gold  enslaves, 

And  venal  men  their  birth-right  sell ; 
Tell  North  and  his  bribed  clan  of  knaves, 

Their  bloody  acts  were  made  in  hell. 

In  Henry's  reign  those  acts  began, 

Which  sacred  rules  of  justice  broke 
North  now  pursues  the  hellish  plan, 

To  fix  on  us  his  slavish  yoke. 

But  we  oppose,  and  will  be  free, 

This  great  good  cause  we  will  defend; 

Nor  bribe,  nor  Gage,  nor  North's  decree, 
Shall  make  us  "at  his  feet  to  bend." 


452  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

From  Anglia's  ancient  sons  we  came; 

Those  heroes  who  for  freedom  fought; 
In  freedom's  cause  we'll  march ;  their  fame, 

By  their  example  greatly  taught. 

Our  king  we  love,  but  North  we  hate, 
Nor  will  to  him  submission  own; 

If  death's  our  doom,  we'll  brave  our  fate, 
But  pay  allegiance  to  the  throne. 

Then  rouse,  my  sons !  from  slavery  free 

Your  suffering  homes;  from  God's  high  wrath; 

Gird  on  your  steel;  give  liberty 
To  all  who  follow  in  our  path. 


THE  PENNSYLVANIA  SONG 

[1775] 

We  are  the  troop  that  ne'er  will  stoop 

To  wretched  slavery, 
Nor  shall  our  seed,  by  our  base  deed 

Despised  vassals  be; 
Freedom  we  will  bequeathe  to  them, 

Or  we  will  bravely  die; 
Our  greatest  foe,  ere  long  shall  know, 
How  much  did  Sandwich  lie. 

And  all  the  world  shall  know, 

Americans  are  free; 
Nor  slaves  nor  cowards  we  will  prove, 
Great  Britain  soon  shall  see. 

We'll  not  give  up  our  birthright, 

Our  foes  shall  find  us  men; 
As  good  as  they,  in  any  shape, 

The  British  troops  shall  ken. 
Huzza. !  brave  boys,  we'll  beat  them 

On  any  hostile  plain; 


MINOR  POEMS   OF   THE   REVOLUTION  453 

For  freedom,  wives,  and  children  dear 
The  battle  we'll  maintain. 

What !  can  those  British  tyrants  think, 

Our  fathers  cross'd  the  main, 
And  savage  foes,  and  dangers  met, 

To  be  enslav'd  by  them? 
If  so,  they  are  mistaken, 

For  we  will  rather  die; 
And  since  they  have  become  our  foes, 
Their  forces  we  defy. 

And  all  the  world  shall  know, 

Americans  are  free, 
Nor  slaves  nor  cowards  we  will  prove, 
Great  Britain  soon  shall  see. 

THE  AMERICAN  HERO 

[By  Nathaniel  Niles.     1775] 

Why  should  vain  mortals  tremble  at  the  sight  of 
Death  and  destruction  in  the  field  of  battle, 
Where  blood  and  carnage  clothe  the  ground  in  crimson, 
Sounding  with  death-groans? 

Death  will  invade  us  by  the  means  appointed, 
And  we  must  all  bow  to  the  king  of  terrors ; 
Nor  am  I  anxious,  if  I  am  prepared, 
What  shape  he  comes  in. 

Infinite  Goodness  teaches  us  submission, 
Bids  us  be  quiet  under  all  his  dealings; 
Never  repining,  but  forever  praising 
God,  our  Creator. 

Well  may  we  praise  him:  all  his  ways  are  perfect: 
Though  a  resplendence,  infinitely  glowing, 
Dazzles  in  glory  on  the  sight  of  mortals, 
Struck  blind  by  lustre. 


454  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

Good  is  Jehovah  in  bestowing  sunshine, 
Nor  less  his  goodness  in  the  storm  and  thunder, 
Mercies  and  judgment  both  proceed  from  kindness, 
Infinite  kindness. 


O,  then,  exult  that  God  forever  reigneth ; 
Clouds  which,  around  him,  hinder  our  perception; 
Bind  us  the  stronger  to  exalt  his  name,  and 
Shout  louder  praises. 

Then  to  the  wisdom  of  my  Lord  and  Master 
I  will  commit  all  that  I  have  or  wish  for, 
Sweetly  as  babes'  sleep  will  I  give  my  life  up, 
When  calFd  to  yield  it. 

Now,  Mars,  I  dare  thee,  clad  in  smoky  pillars, 
Bursting  from  bomb-shells,  roaring  from  the  cannon, 
Rattling  in  grape-shot  like  a  storm  of  hailstones, 
Torturing  ether. 

Up  the  bleak  heavens  let  the  spreading  flames  rise, 
Breaking,  like  y£tna,  through  the  smoky  columns, 
Lowering,  like  Egypt,  o'er  the  falling  city, 
Wantonly  burned  down.1 

While  all  their  hearts  quick  palpitate  for  havoc, 
Let  slip  your  blood-hounds,  nam'd  the  British  lions; 
Dauntless  as  death  stares,  nimble  as  the  whirl-wind, 
Dreadful  as  demons ! 

Let  oceans  waft  on  all  your  floating  castles, 
Fraught  with  destruction,  horrible  to  nature; 
Then,  with  your  sails  nll'd  by  a  storm  of  vengeance, 
Bear  down  to  battle. 

1  Charlestown,  near  Boston, 


MINOR  POEMS  OF   THE   REVOLUTION  455 

From  the  dire  caverns,  made  by  ghostly  miners, 
Let  the  explosion,  dreadful  as  volcanoes, 
Heave  the  broad  town,  with  all  its  wealth  and  people, 
Quick  to  destruction. 

Still  shall  the  banner  of  the  King  of  Heaven 
Never  advance  where  I  am  afraid  to  follow: 
While  that  precedes  me,  with  an  open  bosom, 
War,  I  defy  thee. 

Fame  and  dear  freedom  lure  me  on  to  battle, 
While  a  fell  despot,  grimmer  than  a  death's-head, 
Stings  me  with  serpents,  fiercer  than  Medusa's, 
To  the  encounter. 

Life,  for  my  country  and  the  cause  of  freedom, 
Is  but  a  trifle  for  a  wrorm  to  part  with; 
And,  if  preserved  in  so  great  a  contest, 
Life  is  redoubled. 


THE  YANKEE'S  RETURN  FROM  CAMP 

[Cir.  1775! 

Father  and  I  went  down  to  camp, 

Along  with  Captain  Gooding, 
And  there  we  see  the  men  and  boys, 
As  thick  as  hasty  pudding. 

Chorus  —  Yankee  Doodle,  keep  it  up, 

Yankee  Doodle,  dandy, 
Mind  the  music  and  the  step, 
And  with  the  girls  be  handy. 

And  there  we  see  a  thousand  men, 

As  rich  as  'Squire  David; 
And  what  they  wasted  every  day, 

I  wish  it  could  be  saved. 


45 6  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

The  'lasses  they  eat  every  day, 
Would  keep  an  house  a  winter; 

They  have  as  much  that,  I'll  be  bound, 
They  eat  it  when  they're  a  mind  to. 

And  there  we  see  a  swamping  gun, 
Large  as  a  log  of  maple, 

Upon  a  deuced  little  cart, 
A  load  for  father's  cattle. 

And  every  time  they  shoot  it  off, 
It  takes  a  horn  of  powder, 

And  makes  a  noise  like  father's  gun, 
Only  a  nation  louder. 

I  went  as  nigh  to  one  myself, 

As  Siah's  underpinning; 
And  father  went  as  nigh  again, 

I  thought  the  deuce  was  in  him. 

Cousin  Simon  grew  so  bold, 

I  thought  he  would  have  cock'd  it; 

It  scar'd  me  so,  I  shrink 'd  it  off, 
And  hung  by  father's  pocket. 

And  Captain  Davis  had  a  gun, 
He  kind  of  clapt  his  hand  on't, 

And  stuck  a  crooked  stabbing  iron 
Upon  the  little  end  on't. 

And  there  I  see  a  pumpkin  shell 
As  big  as  mother's  bason; 

And  every  time  they  touch'd  it  off, 
They  scamper'd  like  the  nation. 

I  see  a  little  barrel  too, 

The  heads  were  made  of  leather, 

They  knock'd  upon't  with  little  clubs, 
And  call'd  the  folks  together. 


MINOR  POEMS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION      457 

And  there  was  Captain  Washington, 

And  gentlefolks  about  him, 
They  say  he's  grown  so  tarnal  proud, 

He  will  not  ride  without  'em. 

He  got  him  on  his  meeting  clothes, 

Upon  a  slapping  stallion, 
He  set  the  world  along  in  rows, 

In  hundreds  and  in  millions. 

The  flaming  ribbons  in  his  hat, 

They  look'd  so  taring  fine  ah, 
I  wanted  pockily  to  get, 

To  give  to  my  Jemimah. 

I  see  another  snarl  of  men 

A  digging  graves,  they  told  me, 
So  tarnal  long,  so  tarnal  deep, 

They  'tended  they  should  hold  me. 

It  scar'd  me  so,  I  hook'd  it  off, 

Nor  stop'd,  as  I  remember, 
Nor  turn'd  about,  'till  I  got  home, 

Lock'd  up  in  mother's  chamber. 


NATHAN  HALE 

[1776] 

The  breezes  went  steadily  thro'  the  tall  pines, 

A  saying  "oh!  hu-ush!"  a  saying  "oh!  hu-ush!" 

As  stilly  stole  by  a  bold  legion  of  horse, 
For  Hale  in  the  bush,  for  Hale  in  the  bush. 

"Keep  still!"  said  the  thrush  as  she  nestled  her  young, 
In  a  nest  by  the  road;  in  a  nest  by  the  road. 

"For  the  tyrants  are  near,  and  with  them  appear, 
What  bodes  us  no  good;  what  bodes  us  no  good." 


458  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

The  brave  captain  heard  it,  and  thought  of  his  home, 
In  a  cot  by  the  brook ;  in  a  cot  by  the  brook. 

With  mother  and  sister  and  memories  dear, 
He  so  gaily  forsook;  he  so  gaily  forsook. 

Cooling  shades  of  the  night  were  coming  apace, 

The  tattoo  had  beat;  the  tattoo  had  beat. 
The  noble  one  sprang  from  his  dark  lurking  place, 

To  make  his  retreat;  to  make  his  retreat. 

He  warily  trod  on  the  dry  rustling  leaves, 

As  he  pass'd  thro'  the  wood;  as  he  pass'd  thro'  the  wood; 
And  silently  gain'd  his  rude  launch  on  the  shore, 

As  she  play'd  with  the  flood;  as  she  play'd  with  the  flood. 

The  guards  of  the  camp,  on  that  dark,  dreary  night, 
Had  a  murderous  will;  had  a  murderous  will. 

They  took  him  and  bore  him  afar  from  the  shore, 
To  a  hut  on  the  hill;  to  a  hut  on  the  hill. 

No  mother  was  there,  nor  a  friend  who  could  cheer, 
In  that  little  stone  cell;  in  that  little  stone  cell. 

But  he  trusted  in  love,  from  his  father  above. 

In  his  heart,  all  was  well;  in  his  heart,  all  was  well. 

An  ominous  owl  with  his  solemn  base  voice, 
Sat  moaning  hard  by;  sat  moaning  hard  by. 

"The  tyrant's  proud  minions  most  gladly  rejoice, 
"For  he  must  soon  die;  for  he  must  soon  die." 

The  brave  fellow  told  them,  no  thing  he  restrained, 

The  cruel  gen'ral;  the  cruel  gen'ral. 
His  errand  from  camp,  of  the  ends  to  be  gain'd, 

And  said  that  was  all;  and  said  that  was  all. 

They  took  him  and  bound  him  and  bore  him  away, 
Down  the  hill's  grassy  side;  down  the  hill's  grassy  side. 

'Twas  there  the  base  hirelings,  in  royal  array, 
His  cause  did  deride;  his  cause  did  deride. 


MINOR  POEMS   OF   THE  REVOLUTION  459 

Five  minutes  were  given,  short  moments,  no  more, 

For  him  to  repent;  for  him  to  repent; 
He  pray'd  for  his  mother,  he  ask'd  not  another, 

To  Heaven  he  went;  to  Heaven  he  went. 

The  faith  of  a  martyr,  the  tragedy  shew'd, 

As  he  trod  the  last  stage;  as  he  trod  the  last  stage. 

And  Britons  will  shudder  at  gallant  Hale's  blood, 
As  his  words  do  presage,  as  his  words  do  presage. 

"Thou  pale  king  of  terrors,  thou  life's  gloomy  foe, 
Go  frighten  the  slave,  go  frighten  the  slave; 

Tell  tyrants,  to  you,  their  allegiance  they  owe. 
No  fears  for  the  brave;  no  fears  for  the  brave." 

THE  BRITISH  LIGHT-INFANTRY 

[1778! 

Hark !  hark !  the  bugle's  lofty  sound, 
Which  makes  the  woods  and  rocks  around 

Repeat  the  martial  strain, 
Proclaims  the  light-arm'1  d  British  troops 
Advance Behold,  rebellion  droops; 

She  hears  the  sound  with  pain. 

She  sees  their  glitt'ring  arms  with  fear; 
Their  nodding  plumes  approaching  near; 

Her  gorgon  head  she  hides. 
She  flees,  in  vain,  to  shun  such  foes, 
For  Wayne,  or  hapless  Baylor  knows 

How  swift  their  vengeance  glides. 

The  nimble  messenger  of  Jove 
On  earth  alights  not  from  above 

With  step  so  light  as  theirs: 
Hence,  have  they  feathered  caps,  and  wings, 
And  weapons  which  have  keener  stings 

Than  that  gay  Hermes  bears. 


460  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

A  myrtle  garland,  with  the  vine, 
Venus  and  Bacchus  shall  entwine, 

About  their  brows  to  place; 
As  types  of  love  and  joy,  beneath 
The  well-earn 'd,  budding  laurel- wreath 

Which  shades  each  hero's  face. 


D'ESTAING'S  DISASTER 

[From  "The  Congratulation,"  by  Dr.  Jonathan  Odell.     1779] 

Joy  to  great  Congress,  joy  an  hundred  fold: 
The  grand  cajolers  are  themselves  cajol'd ! 
In  vain  has  [Franklin's]  artifice  been  tried, 
And  Louis  swell'd  with  treachery  and  pride: 
Who  reigns  supreme  in  heav'n  deception  spurns, 
And  on  the  author's  head  the  mischief  turns. 
What  pains  were  taken  to  procure  D'Estaing ! 
His  fleet's  dispers'd,  and  Congress  may  go  hang. 

Joy  to  great  Congress,  joy  an  hundred  fold: 

The  grand  cajolers  are  themselves  cajol'd ! 

Heav'ns  King  sends  forth  the  hurricane  and  strips 

Of  all  their  glory  the  perfidious  ships. 

His  Ministers  of  Wrath  the  storm  direct; 

Nor  can  the  Prince  of  Air  his  French  protect. 

Saint  George,  Saint  David  show'd  themselves  true  hearts; 

Saint  Andrew  and  Saint  Patrick  topp'd  their  parts. 

With  right  Eolian  puffs  the  wind  they  blew; 

Crack  went  the  masts;  the  sails  to  shivers  flew. 

Such  honest  saints  shall  never  be  forgot; 

Saint  Dennis,  and  Saint  Tammany,  go  rot. 

Joy  to  great  Congress,  joy  an  hundred  fold; 
The  grand  cajolers  are  themselves  cajol'd ! 
Old  Satan  holds  a  council  in  mid-air; 
Hear  the  black  Dragon  furious  rage  and  swear  — 


MINOR  POEMS  OF  THE  REVOLUTION  461 

Are  these  the  triumphs  of  my  Gallic  friends? 

How  will  you  ward  this  blow,  my  trusty  fiends? 

What  remedy  for  this  unlucky  job? 

What  art  shall  raise  the  spirits  of  the  mob? 

Fly  swift,  ye  sure  supporters  of  my  realm, 

Ere  this  ill-news  the  rebels  overwhelm. 

Invent,  say  any  thing  to  make  them  mad; 

Tell  them  the  King  —  No,  Dev'ls  are  not  so  bad ; 

The  dogs  of  Congress  at  the  King  let  loose; 

But  ye,  brave  Dev'ls,  avoid  such  mean  abuse. 

Joy  to  great  Congress,  joy  an  hundred  fold: 
The  grand  cajolers  are  themselves  cajoPd ! 
What  thinks  Sir  Washington  of  this  mischance; 
Blames  he  not  those,  who  put  their  trust  in  France? 
A  broken  reed  comes  pat  into  his  mind: 
Egypt  and  France  by  rushes  are  defin'd, 
Basest  of  Kingdoms  underneath  the  skies, 
Kingdoms  that  could  not  profit  their  allies. 
How  could  the  tempest  play  him  such  a  prank  ? 
Blank  is  his  prospect,  and  his  visage  blank : 
Why  from  West-Point  his  armies  has  he  brought? 
Can  nought  be  done  ?  —  sore  sighs  he  at  the  thought. 
Back  to  his  mountains  Washington  may  trot: 
He  take  this  city  —  yes,  when  Ice  is  hot. 


VOLUNTEER  BOYS 

[By  Henry  Archer  (?).     1780] 

Hence  with  the  lover  who  sighs  o'er  his  wine, 

Cloes  and  Phillises  toasting, 

Hence  with  the  slave  who  will  whimper  and  whine, 
Of  ardor  and  constancy  boasting. 
Hence  with  love's  joys, 
Follies  and  noise, 
The  toast  that  I  give  is  the  Volunteer  Boys. 


462  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

Nobles  and  beauties  and  such  common  toasts, 

Those  who  admire  may  drink,  sir; 
Fill  up  the  glass  to  the  volunteer  hosts, 

Who  never  from  danger  will  shrink,  sir. 
Let  mirth  appear, 
Every  heart  cheer, 
The  toast  that  I  give  is  the  brave  volunteer. 

Here's  to  the  squire  who  goes  to  parade 

Here's  to  the  citizen  soldier; 
Here's  to  the  merchant  who  fights  for  his  trade, 
Whom  danger  increasing  makes  bolder. 
Let  mirth  appear, 
Union  is  here, 
The  toast  that  I  give  is  the  brave  volunteer. 

Here's  to  the  lawyer,  who,  leaving  the  bar, 

Hastens  where  honor  doth  lead,  sir, 
Changing  the  gown  for  the  ensigns  of  war, 
The  cause  of  his  country  to  plead,  sir. 
Freedom  appears, 
Every  heart  cheers, 
And  calls  for  the  health  of  the  law  volunteers. 


Here's  to  the  soldier,  though  batter'd  in  wars, 

And  safe  to  his  farm-house  retir'd; 
When  called  by  his  country,  ne'er  thinks  of  his  scars, 
With  ardor  to  join  us  inspir'd. 
Bright  fame  appears, 
Trophies  uprear, 
To  veteran  chiefs  who  became  volunteers. 


Here's  to  the  farmer  who  dares  to  advance 
To  harvests  of  honor  with  pleasure; 

Who  with  a  slave  the  most  skilful  in  France, 
A  sword  for  his  country  would  measure. 


MINOR  POEMS   OF    THE  REVOLUTION  463 

Hence  with  cold  fear, 
Heroes  rise  here; 
The  ploughman  is  chang'd  to  the  stout  volunteer. 

Here's  to  the  peer,  first  in  senate  and  field, 
Whose  actions  to  titles  add  grace,  sir; 
Whose  spirit  undaunted  would  never  yet  yield 
To  a  foe,  to  a  pension  or  place,  sir. 
Gratitude  here, 
Toasts  to  the  peer, 
Who  adds  to  his  titles,  "the  brave  volunteer." 

Thus  the  bold  bands  for  old  Jersey's  defence,    . 

The  muse  hath  with  rapture  review'd,  sir; 
With  our  volunteer  boys,  as  our  verses  commence, 
With  our  volunteer  boys  they  conclude,  sir. 
Discord  or  noise, 
Ne'er  damp  our  joys, 
But  health  and  success  to  the  volunteer  boys. 

THE  DANCE 

[1781] 

Cornwallis  led  a  country  dance, 

The  like  was  never  seen,  sir, 
Much  retrograde  and  much  advance, 

And  all  with  General  Greene,  sir. 

They  rambled  up  and  rambled  down, 

Join'd  hands,  then  off  they  run,  sir, 
Our  General  Greene  to  Charlestown, 

The  earl  to  Wilmington,  sir. 

Greene,  in  the  South,  then  danc'd  a  set, 

And  got  a  mighty  name,  sir, 
Cornwallis  jigg'd  with  young  Fayette, 

But  suffer'd  in  his  fame,  sir. 


464  EARLY   AMERICAN    WRITERS 

Then  down  he  figur'd  to  the  shore, 

Most  like  a  lordly  dancer, 
And  on  his  courtly  honor  swore, 

He  would  no  more  advance,  sir. 

Quoth  he,  my  guards  are  weary  grown 
With  footing  country  dances, 

They  never  at  St.  James's  shone, 
At  capers,  kicks  or  prances. 

Though  men  so  gallant  ne'er  were  seen, 
While  sauntering  on  parade,  sir, 

Or  wriggling  o'er  the  park's  smooth  green, 
Or  at  a  masquerade,  sir. 

Yet  are  red  heels  and  long-lac'd  skirts, 

For  stumps  and  briars  meet,  sir? 
Or  stand  they  chance  with  hunting-shirts, 

Or  hardy  veteran  feet,  sir? 

« 

Now  hous'd  in  York  he  challeng'd  all, 

At  minuet  or  all  'amande, 
And  lessons  for  a  courtly  ball, 

His  guards  by  day  and  night  conn'd. 

This  challenge  known,  full  soon  there  came, 

A  set  who  had  the  bon  ton, 
De  Grasse  and  Rochambeau,  whose  fame 

Fut  brillant  pour  un  long  terns. 

And  Washington,  Columbia's  son, 
Whom  easy  nature  taught,  sir, 

That  grace  which  can't  by  pains  be  won, 
Or  Plutus'  gold  be  bought,  sir. 

Now  hand  in  hand  they  circle  round, 

This  ever-dancing  peer,  sir; 
Their  gentle  movements,  soon  confound 

The  earl,  as  they  draw  near,  sir. 


MINOR  POEMS   OF   THE   REVOLUTION  465 

His  music  soon  forgets  to  play  — 

His  feet  can  no  more  move,  sir, 
And  all  his  bands  now  curse  the  day, 

They  jigged  to  our  shore,  sir. 

Now  Tories  all,  what  can  ye  say? 

Come  —  is  not  this  a  griper, 
That  while  your  hopes  are  danc'd  away, 

'Tis  you  must  pay  the  piper. 


2  H 


HUGH   HENRY   BRACKENRIDGE 

[Hugh  Henry  Brackenridge  is  notable  as  the  author  of  the  most  popular 
book  produced  west  of  the  Alleghanies  before  1800.  He  was  born  in  Scot 
land  in  1748,  but  came  to  America  when  a  boy.  His  family  were  in  poor 
financial  circumstances,  but,  largely  through  his  own  exertions,  he  was 
graduated  from  Princeton  in  1771.  His  collaboration  with  his  classmate 
Freneau  in  a  commencement  poem  has  already  been  mentioned.  After  his 
graduation  he  taught  school,  edited  a  magazine,  studied  divinity,  and  served 
as  chaplain  in  the  continental  army.  During  this  period  he  wrote  a  few  pop 
ular  patriotic  poems,  and  delivered  some  patriotic  sermons  that  were  thought 
worthy  of  being  published.  Before  the  close  of  the  war  he  turned  to  the 
study  of  law,  and  in  1781  he  removed  to  Pittsburg.  Here  he  became  active 
in  public  affairs,  and  was  perhaps  unfortunately  prominent  in  connection 
with  the  "Whiskey  Insurrection"  of  1794.  The  next  year  he  published  a 
long  and  elaborate  "Vindication"  of  his  conduct  in  connection  with  this 
affair.  His  most  important  work  was  "Modern  Chivalry;  containing  the 
Adventures  of  a  Captain  and  Teague  O'Regan,  his  servant."  The  first  part 
of  this  picturesque  satire  appeared  in  1796,  and  the  less  important  second 
part  in  1806.  The  book  is  a  western  Don  Quixote,  and  burlesques  with 
western  freedom,  and  in  a  manner  that  shows  the  western  point  of  view,  many 
political  and  social  customs  of  the  country. 

The  selections  are  from  the  Philadelphia  edition  of  1804.] 

AN  ANSWER  TO  A  CHALLENGE 

[From  "Modern  Chivalry"] 

On  reflection,  it  seemed  advisable  to  the  Captain  to  write  an 
answer  to  the  card  which  Colonel  or  Major  Jacko,  or  whatever 
his  title  may  have  been,  had  sent  him  this  morning.  It  was  as 
follows  : 

SIR, 

I  have  two  objections  to  this  duel  matter.  The  one  is,  lest 
I  should  hurt  you;  and  the  other  is,  lest  you  should  hurt  me. 
I  do  not  see  any  good  it  would  do  me  to  put  a  bullet  through  any 
part  of  your  body.  I  could  make  no  use  of  you  when  dead, 
for  any  culinary  purpose,  as  I  would  a  rabbit  or  a  turkey.  I  am 
no  cannibal  to  feed  on  the  flesh  of  men.  Why  then  shoot  down 

466 


HUGH  HENRY   BRACKEN  RIDGE  467 

a  human  creature,  of  which  I  could  make  no  use?  A  buffaloe 
would  be  better  meat.  For  though  your  flesh  might  be  delicate 
and  tender;  yet  it  wants  that  firmness  and  consistency  which 
takes  and  retains  salt.  At  any  rate  it  would  not  be  fit  for  long  sea 
voyages.  You  might  make  a  good  barbecue,  it  is  true,  being  of 
the  nature  of  a  racoon  or  an  opossum;  but  people  are  not  in  the 
habit  of  barbecuing  any  thing  human  now.  As  to  your  hide,  it 
is  not  worth  the  taking  off,  being  little  better  than  that  of  a  year 
old  colt. 

It  would  seem  to  me  a  strange  thing  to  shoot  at  a  man  that  would 
stand  still  to  be  shot  at;  in  as  much  as  I  have  been  heretofore 
used  to  shoot  at  things  flying,  or  running,  or  jumping.  Were  you 
on  a  tree,  now,  like  a  squirrel,  endeavouring  to  hide  yourself  in 
the  branches,  or  like  a  racoon,  that  after  much  eying  and  spying 
I  observe  at  length  in  the  crotch  of  a  tall  oak,  with  boughs  and 
leaves  intervening,  so  that  I  could  just  get  a  sight  of  his  hinder 
parts,  I  should  think  it  pleasurable  enough  to  take  a  shot  at  you. 
But  as  it  is,  there  is  no  skill  or  judgment  requisite  either  to  dis 
cover  or  take  you  down. 

As  to  myself,  I  do  not  much  like  to  stand  in  the  way  of  any 
thing  that  is  harmful.  I  am  under  apprehensions  you  might  hit 
me.  That  being  the  case,  I  think  it  most  advisable  to  stay  at 
a  distance.  If  you  want  to  try  your  pistols,  take  some  object, 
a  tree  or  a  barn  door  about  my  dimensions.  If  you  hit  that,  send 
me  word,  and  I  shall  acknowledge  that  if  I  had  been  in  the  same 
place,  you  might  also  have  hit  me. 

J.F. 

TREATING  WITH  THE   INDIANS 

[From  "Modern  Chivalry"] 

Not  long  after  this,  being  at  a  certain  place,  the  Captain  was 
accosted  by  a  stranger  in  the  following  manner :  Captain,  said  he, 
I  have  heard  of  a  young  man  in  your  sendee  who  talks  Irish.  Now, 
Sir,  my  business  is  that  of  an  Indian  treaty-maker;  and  am  on 
my  way  with  a  party  of  kings,  and  half -kings  to  the  commissioners, 
to  hold  a  treaty.  My  king  of  the  Kickapoos,  who  was  a  Welsh 
blacksmith,  took  sick  by  the  way,  and  is  dead:  I  have  heard  of 


468  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

this  lad  of  yours  and  could  wish  to  have  him  a  while  to  supply 
his  place.  The  treaty  will  not  last  longer  than  a  couple  of  weeks ; 
and  as  the  government  will  probably  allow  three  or  four  thousand 
dollars  for  the  treaty,  it  will  be  in  our  power  to  make  it  worth  your 
while,  to  spare  him  for  that  time.  Your  king  of  the  Kickapoos, 
said  the  Captain;  what  does  that  mean?  Said  the  stranger,  It 
is  just  this:  you  have  heard  of  the  Indian  nations  to  the  west 
ward,  that  occasionally  make  war  upon  the  frontier  settlements. 
It  has  been  a  policy  of  government,  to  treat  with  these,  and  dis 
tribute  goods.  Commissioners  are  appointed  for  that  purpose. 
Now  you  are  not  to  suppose  that  it  is  always  an  easy  matter  to 
catch  a  real  chief,  and  bring  him  from  the  woods;  or  if  at  some 
expense  one  was  brought,  the  goods  would  go  to  his  use ;  whereas, 
it  is  much  more  profitable  to  hire  substitutes  and  make  chiefs 
of  our  own:  And  as  some  unknown  gibberish  is  necessary,  to 
pass  for  an  Indian  language,  wre  generally  make  use  of  Welch, 
or  Low  Dutch,  or  Irish;  or  pick  up  an  ingenious  fellow  here 
and  there,  who  can  imitate  a  language  by  sounds  of  his  own, 
in  his  mouth,  and  throat.  But  we  prefer  one  who  can  speak  a 
real  tongue,  and  give  more  for  him.  We  cannot  afford  you  a  great 
deal  at  this  time  for  the  use  of  your  man;  because  it  is  not  a 
general  treaty  where  20,000,  or  30,000  dollars  are  appropriated  for 
the  purpose  of  holding  it;  but  an  occasional,  or  what  we  call 
a  running  treaty,  by  way  of  brightening  the  chain,  and  holding 
fast  friendship.  The  commissioners  will  doubtless  be  glad  to 
see  us,  and  procure  from  government  an  allowance  for  the  treaty. 
For  the  more  treaties,  the  more  use  for  commissioners.  The  busi 
ness  must  be  kept  up,  and  treaties  made  if  there  are  none  of  them 
selves.  My  Pianksha,  and  Choctaw  chiefs,  are  very  good  fellows; 
the  one  of  them  a  Scotch  pedlar  that  talks  the  Erse ;  the  other  has 
been  some  time  in  Canada,  and  has  a  little  broken  Indian,  God 
knows  what  language;  but  has  been  of  great  service  in  assisting 
to  teach  the  rest  some  Indian  custom  and  manners.  I  have  had 
the  whole  of  them  for  a  fortnight  past  under  my  tuition,  teaching 
them  war  songs  and  dances,  and  to  make  responses  at  the  treaty. 
If  your  man  is  tractable,  I  can  make  him  a  Kickapoo  in  about 
nine  days.  A  breech-clout,  and  leggins,  that  I  took  off  the  black 
smith  that  died,  I  have  ready  to  put  on  him.  He  must  have  part 


HUGH  HENRY   BRACKENRIDGE  469 

of  his  head  shaved,  and  painted,  with  feathers  on  his  crown; 
but  the  paint  will  rub  off,  and  the  hair  grow  in  a  short  time,  so 
that  he  can  go  about  with  you  again. 

It  is  a  very  strange  affair,  said  the  Captain.  Is  it  possible  that 
such  deception  can  be  practised  in  a  new  country.  It  astonishes 
me,  that  the  government  does  not  detect  such  imposition.  The 
government,  said  the  Indian  treaty- man,  is  at  a  great  distance. 
It  knows  no  more  of  Indians  than  a  cow  does  of  Greek.  The 
legislature,  hears  of  wars  and  rumours  of  wars,  and  supports  the 
executive  in  forming  treaties.  How  is  it  possible  for  men  who 
live  remote  from  the  scene  of  action,  to  have  adequate  ideas  of 
the  nature  of  Indians,  or  the  transactions  that  are  carried  on  hi 
their  behalf?  Do  you  think  the  one  half  of  those  savages  that 
come  to  treat,  are  real  representatives  of  the  nation?  Many  of 
them  are  not  savages  at  all;  but  weavers,  and  pedlars,  as  I  have 
told  you,  picked  up  to  make  kings  and  chiefs.  I  speak  of  those 
particularly  that  come  trading  down  to  inland  towns,  or  the  me 
tropolis.  I  would  not  communicate  these  mysteries  of  our  trade, 
were  it  not  that  I  confide  in  your  good  sense,  and  have  occasion 
for  your  servant. 

It  is  a  mystery  of  iniquity,  said  the  Captain.  Do  you  suppose 
that  I  would  countenance  such  a  fraud  upon  the  public?  I  do 
not  know,  said  the  other;  it  is  a  very  common  thing  for  men  to 
speculate,  nowadays.  If  you  will  not,  another  will.  A  hundred 
dollars  might  as  well  be  in  your  pocket  as  another  man's.  I  will 
give  you  that  for  the  use  of  your  servant,  for  a  week  or  two,  and 
say  no  more  about  it.  It  is  an  idea  new  to  me  entirely,  said  the 
Captain,  that  Indian  princes,  whom  I  have  seen  escorted  down  as 
such,  were  no  more  than  trumpery,  disguised,  as  you  mention; 
that  such  should  be  introduced  to  polite  assemblies,  and  have 
the  honour  to  salute  the  fair  ladies  with  a  kiss,  the  greatest  beauties 
thinking  themselves  honoured  by  having  the  salu[ta]tion  of  a 
sovereign  ?  It  is  so,  said  the  other ;  I  had  a  red  headed  bricklayer 
once,  whom  I  passed  for  a  Chippawaw;  and  who  has  dined  with 
clubs,  and  sat  next  the  President.  He  was  blind  of  an  eye,  and 
was  called  blind  Sam  by  the  traders.  I  had  given  it  out  that  he 
was  a  great  warrior,  and  had  lost  his  eye  by  an  arrow,  in  a  contest 
with  a  rival  nation.  These  things  are  now  reduced  to  a  system; 


470  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

and  it  is  so  well  known  to  those  who  are  engaged  in  the  traffic, 
that  we  think  nothing  of  it. 

How  the  devil,  said  the  Captain,  do  you  get  speeches  made, 
and  interpret  them  so  as  to  pass  for  truth.  That  is  an  easy  matter, 
said  the  other;  Indian  speeches  are  nearly  all  alike.  You  have 
only  to  talk  of  burying  hatche[t]s  under  large  trees,  kindling  fires, 
brightening  chains ;  with  a  demand,  at  the  latter  end,  of  blankets 
for  the  backside,  and  rum  to  get  drunk  with. 

I  much  doubt,  said  the  Captain,  whether  treaties  that  are  carried 
on  in  earnest,  are  of  any  great  use.  Of  none  at  all,  said  the  other ; 
especially  as  the  practice  of  giving  goods  prevails;  because  this 
is  an  inducement  to  a  fresh  war.  This  being  the  case,  it  can  be 
no  harm  to  make  a  farce  of  the  whole  matter;  or  rather  a  profit 
of  it;  by  such  means  as  I  propose  to  you,  and  have  pursued 
myself. 

After  all,  said  the  Captain,  I  cannot  but  consider  it  as  a  kind 
of  contraband  and  illicit  traffic ;  and  I  must  be  excused  from  having 
any  hand  in  it,  I  shall  not  betray  your  secret,  but  I  shall  not  favour 
it.  It  would  ill  become  me,  whose  object  in  riding  about  in 
this  manner,  is  to  give  just  ideas  on  subjects,  to  take  part  in  such 
ill-gotten  gain. 

The  Indian  treaty-man  finding  it  vain  to  say  more,  withdrew. 

The  Captain  apprehending  that  he  might  not  yet  drop  his  designs 
upon  the  Irishman,  but  be  tampering  with  him  out  of  doors, 
should  he  come  across  him,  sent  for  Teague.  For  he  well  knew, 
that  should  the  Indian  treaty-man  get  the  first  word  of  him,  the 
idea  of  making  him  a  king,  would  turn  his  head,  and  it  would  be 
impossible  to  prevent  his  going  with  him. 

Teague  coming  in,  said  the  Captain  to  him;  Teague,  I  have 
discovered  in  you,  for  some  time  past,  a  great  spirit  of  ambition, 
which  is,  doubtless,  commendable  in  a  young  person;  and  I  have 
checked  it  only  in  cases  where  there  was  real  danger,  or  apparent 
mischief.  There  is  now  an  opportunity  of  advancing  yourself, 
not  so  much  in  the  way  of  honour  as  profit.  But  profit  brings 
honour,  and  is,  indeed,  the  most  substantial  support  of  it.  There 
has  been  a  man  here  with  me,  that  carries  on  a  trade  with  the 
Indians,  and  tells  me  that  red-headed  scalps  are  in  great  demand 


HUGH  HENRY   BRACKEN  RIDGE  471 

with  them.  If  you  could  spare  yours,  he  would  give  a  good  price 
for  it.  I  do  not  well  know  what  use  they  make  of  this  article, 
but  so  it  is,  the  traders  find  their  account  in  it.  Probably  they 
dress  it  with  the  hairy  side  out,  and  make  tobacco-pouches  for 
the  chiefs,  when  they  meet  in  council.  It  saves  dyeing,  and  besides, 
the  natural  red  hair  of  a  man,  may,  in  their  estimation,  be  superior 
to  any  colour  they  can  give  by  art.  The  taking  off  the  scalp  will 
not  give  much  pain,  it  is  so  dextrously  done  by  them  with  a  crooked 
knife  they  have  for  that  purpose.  The  mode  of  taking  off  the 
scalp  is  this;  you  lie  down  upon  your  back;  a  warrior  puts  his 
feet  upon  your  shoulders,  collects  your  hair  in  his  left  hand,  and 
drawing  a  circle  with  a  knife  in  his  right,  makes  the  incision,  and, 
with  a  sudden  pull,  separates  it  from  the  head,  giving,  in  the  mean 
time,  what  is  called  the  scalp  yell.  The  thing  is  done  in  such  an 
instant,  that  the  pain  is  scarcely  felt.  He  offered  me  an  hundred 
dollars,  if  I  would  have  it  taken  off  for  his  use,  giving  me  directions, 
in  the  mean  time,  how  to  stretch  it  and  dry  it  on  a  hoop.  I  told 
him,  No ;  it  was  a  perquisite  of  your  own,  and  you  might  dispose 
of  it  as  you  thought  proper.  If  you  choose  to  dispose  of  it,  I  had 
no  objections;  but  the  bargain  should  be  of  your  own  making, 
and  the  price  such  as  should  please  yourself.  I  have  sent  for  you, 
to  give  you  a  hint  of  this  chapman,  that  you  may  have  a  knowledge 
of  his  wish  to  possess  the  property,  and  ask  accordingly.  It  is 
probable  you  may  bring  him  up  to  a  half  Johannes  more,  by 
holding  out  a  little.  But  I  do  not  think  it  would  be  adviseable 
to  lose  the  bargain.  An  hundred  dollars  for  a  little  hairy  flesh, 
is  a  great  deal.  You  will  trot  a  long  time  before  you  make  that 
with  me.  He  will  be  with  you  probably  to  propose  the  purchase. 
You  will  know  when  you  see  him.  He  is  a  tall  looking  man,  with 
leggins  on,  and  has  several  Indians  with  him  going  to  a  treaty. 
He  talked  to  me  something  of  making  you  a  king  of  the  Kickapoos, 
after  the  scalp  is  off;  but  I  would  not  count  on  that  so  much; 
because  words  are  but  wind,  and  promises  are  easily  broken.  I 
would  advise  you  to  make  sure  of  the  money  in  the  first  place, 
and  take  chance  for  the  rest. 

I  have  seen  among  the  prints  of  Hogarth,  some  such  expression 
of  countenance  as  that  of  Teague  at  this  instant ;  who,  as  soon  as 
he  could  speak,  but  with  a  double  brogue  on  his  tongue,  began  to 


472  EARLY  AMERICAN  WRITERS 

intimate  his  disinclination  to  the  traffic.  The  hair  of  his  scalp 
itself,  in  the  mean  time  had  risen  in  opposition  to  it.  Dear  mas 
ter,  vid  you  trow  me  into  ridicule,  and  the  blessed  shalvation  of 
my  life,  and  all  dat  I  have  in  the  vorld,  to  be  trown  like  a  dog  to 
de  savages,  and  have  my  flesh  tarn  of  my  head  to  give  to  dese  vild 
bastes  to  make  a  napsack  to  carry  their  parates  and  tings  in,  for 
an  hundred  dollars  or  the  like.  It  shall  never  be  said  that  the 
hair  of  the  Oregans  made  mackeseens  for  a  vild  Indian  to  trat 
upon.  I  would  sooner  trow  my  own  head,  hair,  and  all  in  de  fire, 
dan  give  it  to  dese  paple  to  smoke  wid,  out  of  deir  long  pipes. 

If  this  be  your  determination,  said  the  Captain,  it  will  behove 
you  to  keep  yourself  somewhat  close ;  and  while  we  remain  at  this 
public  house,  avoid  any  conversation  with  the  chapman  or  his 
agents,  should  they  come  to  tamper  with  you.  For  it  is  not  im 
probable,  while  they  are  keeping  you  in  talk,  proposing  to  make 
you  a  Kickapoo  chief,  and  the  like,  they  may  snatch  the  scalp  off 
your  head,  and  you  not  be  the  wiser  for  it. 

Teague  thought  the  caution  good,  and  resolving  to  abide  by  it, 
retired  to  the  kitchen.  The  maid  at  this  time,  happening  to  want 
a  log  of  wood,  requested  Teague  to  cut  it  for  her.  Taking  the 
ax  accordingly,  and  going  out,  he  was  busy  chopping,  with  his  head 
down;  while,  in  the  mean  time,  the  Indian  treaty-man  had 
returned  with  one  in  Indian  dress,  who  was  the  chief  of  the  Kill- 
inoos,  or  at  least  passed  for  such ;  and  whom  he  brought  as  having 
some  recruiting  talents,  and  might  prevail  with  Teague  to  elope, 
and  join  the  company.  I  presume,  said  the  Indian  treaty-man, 
you  are  the  waiter  of  the  Captain  who  lodges  here  at  present. 
Teague  hearing  a  man  speak,  and  lifting  up  his  head,  saw  the 
leggins  on  the  one,  and  the  Indian  dress  on  the  other;  and  with  a 
kind  of  involuntary  effort,  threw  the  ax  directly  from  him  at  the 
Killinno.  It  missed  him  but  about  an  inch,  and  fell  behind. 
Teague,  in  the  mean  time,  raising  a  shout  of  desperation,  was  fixed 
on  the  spot,  and  his  locomotive  faculties  suspended;  so  that  he 
could  neither  retreat  nor  advance,  but  stood  still,  like  one  enchained 
or  enchanted  for  a  moment ;  the  king  of  the  Killinoos,  in  the  mean 
time,  drawing  his  tomahawk,  and  preparing  for  battle. 

The  Captain,  who  was  reading  at  a  front  window,  hearing  the 
shout,  looked  about,  and  saw  what  was  going  on  at  the  wood-pile. 


HUGH  HENRY   BRACKENRIDGE  473 

Stop  villain,  said  he,  to  the  king  of  the  Killinoos;  you  are  not  to 
take  that  scalp  yet,  however  much  you  may  value  it.  He  will  not 
take  an  hundred  dollars  for  it,  nor  500,  though  you  make  him  king 
of  the  Kickapoos,  or  any  thing  else.  It  is  no  trifling  matter  to 
have  the  ears  slit  in  tatters,  and  the  nose  run  through  with  a  bodkin, 
and  a  goose  quill  stuck  across;  so  that  you  may  go  about  your 
business;  you  will  get  no  king  of  the  Kickapoos  here.  Under 
cover  of  this  address  of  the  Captain,  Teague  had  retired  to  the 
kitchen,  and  ensconced  himself  behind  the  rampart  of  the  maid. 
The  Indian  treaty-man,  and  the  Killinoo  chief,  finding  the  measure 
hopeless,  withdrew,  and  turned  their  attention,  it  is  to  be  supposed, 
to  some  other  quarter,  to  find  a  king  of  the  Kickapoos. 

CONTAINING    OBSERVATIONS 

The  captain  was  certainly  to  be  commended  in  declining  to 
countenance  the  imposition  of  making  Teague  a  Kickapoo  chief. 
Had  he  been  disposed  to  adventure  in  a  contraband  trade  of  this 
kind,  he  might  have  undertaken  it  as  a  principal,  and  not  as  fur 
nishing  an  assistant  only.  He  could  have  passed  Teague  for  a 
chief,  and  himself  for  an  interpreter.  He  might  pretend  to  have 
conducted  this  prince  from  a  very  distant  nation,  and  that  he  had 
been  several  moons  in  travelling,  and  wanted,  the  Lord  knows 
how  much,  goods  for  his  people,  that  otherwise  would  come  to 
war.  By  this  means,  the  Captain  would  have  taken  the  whole 
emolument  of  the  treaty,  and  not  have  been  put  off  with  a  small 
share  of  the  profit  which  another  made  by  it. 

I  should  like  to  have  seen  Teague  in  an  Indian  dress,  come  to 
treat  with  the  commissioners.  It  would  be  necessary7  for  him  only 
to  talk  Irish,  which  he  might  pass  for  the  Shawanese,  or  other 
language.  The  Captain  could  have  interpreted  in  the  usual  words 
on  these  occasions. 

The  policy  of  treating  with  the  Indians  is  very  good ;  because  it 
takes  off  a  great  deal  of  loose  merchandize,  that  might  otherwise 
lie  upon  our  hands,  and  cuts  away  superfluities  from  the  finances 
of  the  government;  at  the  same  time,  as  every  fresh  treaty  lays 
the  foundation  of  a  new  war,  it  will  serve  to  check  the  too  rapid 
growth  of  the  settlements.  The  extremities  of  a  government, 


474  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

like  the  arm  or  ancle  of  an  individual,  are  the  parts  at  which  blood 
is  to  be  let. 

Struck  with  the  good  effects  of  treating  with  the  savages,  and 
that  our  wise  men  who  conduct  affairs,  pursue  the  policy,  I  have 
been  led  to  wonder,  that  the  agricultural  societies,  have  not  pro 
posed  treaties  with  the  wolves  and  bears  that  they  might  not  clan 
destinely  invade  our  sheep  and  pig  folds.  This  might  be  done  by 
sending  messages  to  the  several  ursine  and  vulpine  nations,  and 
calling  them  to  a  council-fire,  to  which  four  or  five  hundred  wagon 
load  of  beef  should  be  sent,  and  distributed.  If  it  should  be  said, 
that  this  would  restrain  them  no  longer  from  their  prey  than  while 
they  continued  to  be  satiated,  the  same  might  be  said  of  the  Pota- 
watamies,  or  other  Indian  nations ;  and  yet  we  see  that  those  at 
the  head  of  our  affairs  think  it  prudent  to  negociate  with  them. 

A  bear  and  wolf  treaty  might  seem  an  odd  thing  at  first,  but  we 
should  soon  come  to  be  accustomed  to  it.  I  should  be  sorry  abuses 
should  prevail,  by  treaty-making  men  passing  rough  water-dogs 
for  bears,  or  mastiffs  for  wolves,  upon  our  secretaries  at  war,  or 
subordinate  commissioners;  which  might  be  done  as  in  the  case 
of  the  savages  where  it  is  pretended  that  some  tribes  had  not  been 
at  the  general  treaty,  now  sends  a  chief  to  represent  them  and  get 
goods. 

If  our  traders  go  amongst  the  wolves  in  consequence  of  a  treaty, 
I  could  wish  they  could  check  themselves  in  the  introduction  of 
spirituous  liquors.  A  drunk  wolf,  or  bear,  would  be  a  dangerous 
animal.  It  may  be  thought  that  a  bear  of  [or]  wolf  chief  would  not 
get  drunk,  as  it  would  be  setting  a  bad  example  to  their  people; 
but  I  have  seen  Indian  kings  lying  on  the  earth  drunk,  and  exposing 
their  nakedness,  like  Noah  to  Shem,  Ham,  and  Japheth;  and  if 
Indians,  that  are  a  sort  of  human  creatures,  act  thus,  what  might 
we  not  expect  from  a  poor  brute  wolf  or  bear? 

If  treaties  with  the  wolves  and  bears  should  be  found  to  succeed 
it  might  not  be  amiss  to  institute  them  also  with  the  foxes.  This 
is  a  sagacious  animal,  and  destructive  to  ducks  and  other  fowls. 
It  would  be  a  great  matter  to  settle  a  treaty  with  them,  which  might 
be  done  at  the  expence  of  nine  or  ten  thousand  dollars  laid  out  in 
goods. 


CHARLES  BROCKDEN  BROWN 

[Charles  Brockden  Brown  is  often  spoken  of  as  the  first  American  nov 
elist,  and  sometimes  as  the  first  American  to  devote  himself  to  literature  as  a 
profession.  He  was  born  in  Philadelphia,  of  Quaker  parents,  in  1771. 
After  a  somewhat  desultory  schooling,  interrupted  by  poor  health,  he  took 
up  the  study  of  law,  but  never  practised.  In  his  early  manhood  he  came 
under  the  influence  of  Godwin,  and  this  influence  is  seen  both  in  his  social 
and  political  philosophy,  and  in  the  titles  and  manner  of  his  novels.  His 
first  important  writing  was  "Alcuin,"  a  dialogue  on  the  rights  of  woman, 
published  in  1797.  Between  the  spring  of  1798  and  the  close  of  1801  he 
published  six  novels,  "Wieland,"  "Ormond,"  "Arthur  Mervyn,"  "Edgar 
Huntley,"  "Clara  Howard,"  and  "Jane  Talbot."  During  the  greater  part 
of  these  three  prolific  years  he  was  in  New  York,  where  he  lived  and  wrote 
with  a  group  of  congenial  literary  friends.  Even  while  he  was  turning  out 
novels  at  the  rate  of  almost  two  a  year  he  was  editing  a  magazine,  and  writ 
ing  fugitive  pieces  in  prose  and  verse.  After  his  return  to  Philadelphia  in 
1801,  he  edited  magazines  and  wrote  political  and  miscellaneous  articles. 
At  the  time  of  his  death  in  1810  he  was  engaged  on  a  "General  Geography" 
and  a  "History  of  Rome  in  the  Time  of  the  Antonines."  This  hack  work 
is  interesting  as  showing  what  an  American  must  do  if  he  would  live  by  his 
pen  in  the  early  years  of  the  century.  The  only  works  of  Brown  that  keep 
his  fame  alive  are  the  novels  already  mentioned. 

These  novels  are  of  considerable  intrinsic  merit.  As  has  been  said,  they 
show  the  influence  of  Godwin;  and  they  abound  in  scenes  of  terror  and 
mystery  such  as  were  the  fashion  of  the  time.  In  plots,  and  especially  in  the 
explanations  of  horrible  and  strange  occurrences,  they  are  weak.  The  style, 
too,  is  exceedingly  loose  and  faulty.  But  the  author  had  a  genuine  appre 
ciation  of  the  way  in  which  mystery  and  terror  affect  the  human  mind,  and 
he  knew  how  to  present  incidents  effectively.  Structureless  as  his  novels  are, 
they  hold  the  reader's  attention  to  the  end,  and  they  abound  in  scenes  of 
real  power.  This  is  due  in  part  to  the  fact  that  the  action  in  each  case  takes 
place  in  America,  and  that  the  setting  and  some  of  the  incidents  were  based 
on  personal  experience  and  observation.  The  wild  scenery  described  in 
"Edgar  Huntley"  is  said  to  resemble  regions  near  Philadelphia  through 
which  Brown  wandered  as  a  boy,  and  the  pictures  of  the  yellow  fever  epi 
demic  in  "Ormond"  and  "Arthur  Mervyn"  are  based  on  his  observations 
of  the  plague  in  New  York. 

The  selections  are  from  the  only  recent  edition  of  Brown's  complete  works, 
published  by  McKay  in  1887.] 

475 


476  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

A   MYSTERIOUS    WARNING 

[From  "Wieland,  or  the  Transformation"] 

The  state  of  my  mind  naturally  introduced  a  train  of  reflections 
upon  the  dangers  and  cares  which  inevitably  beset  a  human  being. 
By  no  violent  transition  was  I  led  to  ponder  on  the  turbulent  life 
and  mysterious  end  of  my  father.  I  cherished  with  the  utmost 
veneration  the  memory  of  this  man,  and  every  relic  connected 
with  his  fate  was  preserved  with  the  most  scrupulous  care.  Among 
these  was  to  be  numbered  a  manuscript  containing  memoirs  of  his 
own  life.  The  narrative  was  by  no  means  recommended  by  its 
eloquence ;  but  neither  did  all  its  value  flow  from  my  relationship 
to  the  author.  Its  style  had  an  unaffected  and  picturesque  sim 
plicity.  The  great  variety  and  circumstantial  display  of  the  in 
cidents,  together  with  their  intrinsic  importance  as  descriptive  of 
human  manners  and  passions,  made  it  the  most  useful  book  in  my 
collection.  It  was  late:  but,  being  sensible  of  no  inclination  to 
sleep,  I  resolved  to  betake  myself  to  the  perusal  of  it. 

To  do  this,  it  was  requisite  to  procure  a  light.  The  girl  had 
long  since  retired  to  her  chamber:  it  was  therefore  proper  to  wait 
upon  myself.  A  lamp,  and  the  means  of  lighting  it,  were  only  to 
be  found  in  the  kitchen.  Thither  I  resolved  forthwith  to  repair; 
but  the  light  was  of  use  merely  to  enable  me  to  read  the  book.  I 
knew  the  shelf  and  the  spot  where  it  stood.  Whether  I  took  down 
the  book,  or  prepared  the  lamp  in  the  first  place,  appeared  to  be 
a  matter  of  no  moment.  The  latter  was  preferred,  and,  leaving 
my  seat,  I  approached  the  closet  in  which,  as  I  mentioned  formerly, 
my  books  and  papers  were  deposited. 

Suddenly  the  remembrance  of  what  had  lately  passed  in  this 
closet  occurred.  Whether  midnight  was  approaching,  or  had 
passed,  I  knew  not.  I  was,  as  then,  alone  and  defenceless.  The 
wind  was  in  that  direction  in  which,  aided  by  the  deathlike  repose 
of  nature,  it  brought  to  me  the  murmur  of  the  waterfall.  This  was 
mingled  with  that  solemn  and  enchanting  sound  which  a  breeze 
produces  among  the  leaves  of  pines.  The  words  of  that  mysterious 
dialogue,  their  fearful  import,  and  the  wild  excess  to  which  I  was 
transported  by  my  terrors,  filled  my  imagination  anew.  My 
steps  faltered,  and  I  stood  a  moment  to  recover  myself. 


CHARLES  BROCKDEN  BROWN  477 

I  prevailed  on  myself  at  length  to  move  towards  the  closet.  I 
touched  the  lock,  but  my  fingers  were  powerless;  I  was  visited 
afresh  by  unconquerable  apprehensions.  A  sort  of  belief  darted 
into  my  mind  that  some  being  was  concealed  within  whose  pur 
poses  were  evil.  I  began  to  contend  with  those  fears,  when  it 
occurred  to  me  that  I  might,  without  impropriety,  go  for  a  lamp 
previously  to  opening  the  closet.  I  receded  a  few  steps ;  but  be 
fore  I  reached  the  chamber  door  my  thoughts  took  a  new  direction. 
Motion  seemed  to  produce  a  mechanical  influence  upon  me.  I 
was  ashamed  of  my  weakness.  Besides,  what  aid  could  be  afforded 
me  by  a  lamp? 

My  fears  had  pictured  to  themselves  no  precise  object.  It 
would  be  difficult  to  depict  in  words  the  ingredients  and  hues  of 
that  phantom  which  haunted  me.  A  hand  invisible  and  of  pre 
ternatural  strength,  lifted  by  human  passions,  and  selecting  my 
life  for  its  aim,  were  parts  of  this  terrific  image.  All  places  were 
alike  accessible  to  this  foe;  or,  if  his  empire  were  restricted  by 
local  bounds,  those  bounds  were  utterly  inscrutable  by  me.  But 
had  I  not  been  told,  by  some  one  in  league  with  this  enemy, 
that  every  place  but  the  recess  in  the  bank  was  exempt  from 
danger  ? 

I  returned  to  the  closet,  and  once  more  put  my  hand  upon  the 
lock.  Oh,  may  my  ears  lose  their  sensibility  ere  they  be  again 
assailed  by  a  shriek  so  terrible !  Not  merely  my  understanding 
was  subdued  by  the  sound ;  it  acted  on  my  nerves  like  an  edge  of 
steel.  It  appeared  to  cut  asunder  the  fibres  of  my  brain  and  rack 
every  joint  with  agony. 

The  cry,  loud  and  piercing  as  it  was,  was  nevertheless  human. 
No  articulation  was  ever  more  distinct.  The  breath  which  ac 
companied  it  did  not  fan  my  hair,  yet  did  every  circumstance  com 
bine  to  persuade  me  that  the  lips  which  uttered  it  touched  my  very 
shoulder. 

"Hold !  Hold !"  were  the  words  of  this  tremendous  prohibition, 
in  whose  tone  the  whole  soul  seemed  to  be  wrapped  up,  and  every 
energy  converted  into  eagerness  and  terror. 

Shuddering,  I  dashed  myself  against  the  wall,  and,  by  the  same 
involuntary  impulse,  turned  my  face  backward  to  examine  the 
mysterious  monitor.  The  moonlight  streamed  into  each  window, 


478  EARLY  AMERICAN   WRITERS 

and  every  corner  of  the  room  was  conspicuous,  and  yet  I  beheld 
nothing ! 

The  interval  was  too  brief  to  be  artificially  measured,  between 
the  utterance  of  these  words  and  my  scrutiny  directed  to  the  quar 
ter  whence  they  came.  Yet,  if  a  human  being  had  been  there, 
could  he  fail  to  have  been  visible  ?  Which  of  my  senses  was  the 
prey  of  a  fatal  illusion?  The  shock  which  the  sound  produced 
was  still  felt  in  every  part  of  my  frame.  The  sound,  therefore, 
could  not  but  be  a  genuine  commotion.  But  that  I  had  heard  it 
was  not  more  true  than  that  the  being  who  uttered  it  was  stationed 
at  my  right  ear ;  yet  my  attendant  was  invisible. 

I  cannot  describe  the  state  of  my  thoughts  at  that  moment. 
Surprise  had  mastered  my  faculties.  My  frame  shook,  and  the  vital 
current  was  congealed.  I  was  conscious  only  to  the  vehemence 
of  my  sensations.  This  condition  could  not  be  lasting.  Like  a 
tide,  which  suddenly  mounts  to  an  overwhelming  height  and  then 
gradually  subsides,  my  confusion  slowly  gave  place  to  order,  and 
my  tumults  to  a  calm.  I  was  able  to  deliberate  and  move.  I 
resumed  my  feet,  and  advanced  into  the  midst  of  the  room.  Up 
ward,  and  behind,  and  on  each  side,  I  threw  penetrating  glances. 
I  was  not  satisfied  with  one  examination.  He  that  hitherto  re 
fused  to  be  seen  might  change  his  purpose,  and  on  the  next  survey 
be  clearly  distinguishable. 

Solitude  imposes  least  restraint  upon  the  fancy.  Dark  is  less 
fertile  of  images  than  the  feeble  lustre  of  the  moon.  I  was  alone, 
and  the  walls  were  checkered  by  shadowy  forms.  As  the  moon 
passed  behind  a  cloud  and  emerged,  these  shadows  seemed  to  be 
endowed  with  life,  and  to  move.  The  apartment  was  open  to  the 
breeze,  and  the  curtain  was  occasionally  blown  from  its  ordinary 
position.  This  motion  was  not  unaccompanied  with  sound.  I 
failed  not  to  snatch  a  look  and  to  listen  when  this  motion  and  this 
sound  occurred.  My  belief  that  my  monitor  was  posted  near  was 
strong,  and  instantly  converted  these  appearances  to  tokens  of  his 
presence ;  and  yet  I  could  discern  nothing. 

When  my  thoughts  were  at  length  permitted  to  revert  to  the 
past,  the  first  idea  that  occurred  was  the  resemblance  between  the 
words  of  the  voice  which  I  had  just  heard  and  those  which  had 
terminated  my  dream  in  the  summer-house.  There  are  means 


CHARLES  BROCKDEN   BROWN  479 

by  which  we  are  able  to  distinguish  a  substance  from  a  shadow, 
a  reality  from  the  phantom  of  a  dream.  The  pit,  my  brother 
beckoning  me  forward,  the  seizure  of  my  arm,  and  the  voice  be 
hind,  were  surely  imaginary.  That  these  incidents  were  fashioned 
in  my  sleep  is  supported  by  the  same  indubitable  evidence  that 
compels  me  to  believe  myself  awake  at  present ;  yet  the  words  and 
the  voice  were  the  same.  Then,  by  some  inexplicable  contrivance, 
I  was  aware  of  the  danger,  while  my  actions  and  sensations  were 
those  of  one  wholly  unacquainted  with  it.  Now,  was  it  not  equally 
true  that  my  actions  and  persuasions  were  at  war?  Had  not  the 
belief  that  evil  lurked  in  the  closet  gained  admittance,  and 
had  not  my  actions  betokened  an  unwarrantable  security?  To 
obviate  the  effects  of  my  infatuation,  the  same  means  had  been 
used. 

In  my  dream,  he  that  tempted  me  to  my  destruction  was  my 
brother.  Death  was  ambushed  in  my  path.  From  what  evil  was 
I  now  rescued  ?  What  minister  or  implement  of  ill  was  shut  up  in 
this  recess?  Who  was  it  whose  suffocating  grasp  I  was  to  feel 
should  I  dare  to  enter  it?  What  monstrous  conception  is  this? 
My  brother? 

No;  protection,  and  not  injury,  is  his  province.  Strange  and 
terrible  chimera!  Yet  it  would  not  be  suddenly  dismissed.  It 
was  surely  no  vulgar  agency  that  gave  this  form  to  my  fears.  He 
to  whom  all  parts  of  time  are  equally  present,  whom  no  contin 
gency  approaches,  was  the  author  of  that  spell  which  now  seized 
upon  me.  Life  was  dear  to  me.  No  consideration  was  present 
that  enjoined  me  to  relinquish  it.  Sacred  duty  combined  with 
every  spontaneous  sentiment  to  endear  to  me  my  being.  Should 
I  not  shudder  when  my  being  was  endangered?  But  what  emo 
tion  should  possess  me  when  the  arm  Lifted  against  me  was  Wie- 
land's? 

Ideas  exist  in  our  minds  that  can  be  accounted  for  by  no  estab 
lished  laws.  Why  did  I  dream  that  my  brother  was  my  foe? 
Why  but  because  an  omen  of  my  fate  was  ordained  to  be  com 
municated  ?  Yet  what  salutary  end  did  it  serve  ?  Did  it  arm  me 
with  caution  to  elude  or  fortitude  to  bear  the  evils  to  which  I  was 
reserved  ?  My  present  thoughts  were,  no  doubt,  indebted  for  their 
hue  to  the  similitude  existing  between  these  incidents  and  those  of 


480  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

my  dream.  Surely  it  was  frenzy  that  dictated  my  deed.  That  a 
ruffian  was  hidden  in  the  closet  was  an  idea  the  genuine  tendency 
of  which  was  to  urge  me  to  flight.  Such  had  been  the  effect 
formerly  produced.  Had  my  mind  been  simply  occupied  with  this 
thought  at  present,  no  doubt  the  same  impulse  would  have  been 
experienced;  but  now  it  was  my  brother  whom  I  was  irresistibly 
persuaded  to  regard  as  the  contriver  of  that  ill  of  which  I  had  been 
forewarned.  This  persuasion  did  not  extenuate  my  fears  or  my 
danger.  Why  then  did  I  again  approach  the  closet  and  withdraw 
the  bolt?  My  resolution  was  instantly  conceived,  and  executed 
without  faltering. 

The  door  was  formed  of  light  materials.  The  lock,  of  simple 
structure,  easily  forewent  its  hold.  It  opened  into  the  room,  and 
commonly  moved  upon  its  hinges,  after  being  unfastened,  without 
any  effort  of  mine.  This  effort,  however,  was  bestowed  upon  the 
present  occasion.  It  was  my  purpose  to  open  it  with  quickness; 
but  the  exertion  which  I  made  was  ineffectual.  It  refused  to 
open. 

At  another  time,  this  circumstance  would  not  have  looked  with  a 
face  of  mystery.  I  should  have  supposed  some  casual  obstruction 
and  repeated  my  efforts  to  surmount  it.  But  now  my  mind  was 
accessible  to  no  conjecture  but  one.  The  door  was  hindered  from 
opening  by  human  force.  Surely,  here  was  a  new  cause  for  affright. 
This  was  confirmation  proper  to  decide  my  conduct.  Now  was 
all  ground  of  hesitation  taken  away.  What  could  be  supposed  but 
that  I  deserted  the  chamber  and  the  house?  that  I  at  least  en 
deavoured  no  longer  to  withdraw  the  door? 

Have  I  not  said  that  my  actions  were  dictated  by  frenzy?  My 
reason  had  forborne,  for  a  time,  to  suggest  or  to  sway  my  resolves. 
I  reiterated  my  endeavours.  I  exerted  all  my  force  to  overcome 
the  obstacle,  but  in  vain.  The  strength  that  was  exerted  to  keep 
it  shut  was  superior  to  mine. 

A  casual  observer  might,  perhaps,  applaud  the  audaciousness  of 
this  conduct.  Whence,  but  from  a  habitual  defiance  of  danger, 
could  my  perseverance  arise?  I  have  already  assigned,  as  dis 
tinctly  as  I  am  able,  the  cause  of  it.  The  frantic  conception  that 
my  brother  was  within,  that  the  resistance  made  to  my  design  was 
exerted  by  him,  had  rooted  itself  in  my  mind.  You  will  compre- 


CHARLES  BROCK  DEN   BROWN  481 

hend  the  height  of  this  infatuation,  when  I  tell  you  that,  finding  all 
my  exertions  vain,  I  betook  myself  to  exclamations.  Surely  I  was 
utterly  bereft  of  understanding. 

Now  I  had  arrived  at  the  crisis  of  my  fate.  "  Oh,  hinder  not  the 
door  to  open,"  I  exclaimed,  in  a  tone  that  had  less  of  fear  than  of 
grief  in  it.  "I  know  you  well.  Come  forth,  but  harm  me  not. 
I  beseech  you,  come  forth." 

I  had  taken  my  hand  from  the  lock,  and  removed  to  a  small 
distance  from  the  door.  I  had  scarcely  uttered  these  words,  when 
the  door  swung  upon  its  hinges,  and  displayed  to  my  view  the  in 
terior  of  the  closet.  Whoever  was  within  was  shrouded  in  dark 
ness.  A  few  seconds  passed  without  interruption  of  the  silence.  I 
knew  not  what  to  expect  or  to  fear.  My  eyes  would  not  stray  from 
the  recess.  Presently,  a  deep  sigh  was  heard.  The  quarter  from 
which  it  came  heightened  the  eagerness  of  my  gaze.  Some  one 
approached  from  the  farther  end.  I  quickly  perceived  the  out 
lines  of  a  human  figure.  Its  steps  were  irresolute  and  slow.  I 
recoiled  as  it  advanced. 

By  coming  at  length  within  the  verge  of  the  room,  his  form  was 
clearly  distinguishable.  I  had  prefigured  to  myself  a  very  differ 
ent  personage.  The  face  that  presented  itself  was  the  last  that  I 
should  desire  to  meet  at  an  hour  and  in  a  place  like  this.  My 
wonder  was  stifled  by  my  fears.  Assassins  had  lurked  in  this 
recess.  Some  divine  voice  warned  me  of  danger  that  at  this 
moment  awaited  me.  I  had  spurned  the  intimation,  and  chal 
lenged  my  adversary. 

I  recalled  the  mysterious  countenance  and  dubious  character  of 
Carwin.  What  motive  but  atrocious  ones  could  guide  his  steps 
hither?  I  was  alone.  My  habit  suited  the  hour,  and  the  place, 
and  the  warmth  of  the  season.  All  succour  was  remote.  He  had 
placed  himself  between  me  and  the  door.  My  frame  shook  with 
the  vehemence  of  my  apprehensions. 

Yet  I  was  not  wholly  lost  to  myself;  I  vigilantly  marked  his 
demeanour.  His  looks  were  grave,  but  not  without  perturbation. 
What  species  of  inquietude  it  betrayed  the  light  was  not  strong 
enough  to  enable  me  to  discover.  He  stood  still;  but  his  eyes 
wandered  from  one  object  to  another.  When  these  powerful 
organs  were  fixed  upon  me,  I  shrunk  into  myself.  At  length  he 

21 


482  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

broke  silence.  Earnestness,  and  not  embarrassment,  was  in  his 
tone.  He  advanced  close  to  me  while  he  spoke :  — 

"What  voice  was  that  which  lately  addressed  you?" 

He  paused  for  an  answer;  but,  observing  my  trepidation,  he 
resumed,  with  undiminished  solemnity,  "Be  not  terrified.  Who 
ever  he  was,  he  has  done  you  an  important  service.  I  need  not 
ask  you  if  it  were  the  voice  of  a  companion.  That  sound  was 
beyond  the  compass  of  human  organs.  The  knowledge  that  en 
abled  him  to  tell  you  who  was  in  the  closet  was  obtained  by  in 
comprehensible  means. 

"You  knew  that  Carwin  was  there.  Were  you  not  apprized  of 
his  intents  ?  The  same  power  could  impart  the  one  as  well  as  the 
other.  Yet,  knowing  these,  you  persisted.  Audacious  girl ! 
But  perhaps  you  confided  in  his  guardianship.  Your  confidence 
was  just.  With  succour  like  this  at  hand  you  may  safely  defy  me. 

"He  is  my  eternal  foe ;  the  baffler  of  my  best-concerted  schemes. 
Twice  have  you  been  saved  by  his  accursed  interposition.  But 
for  him  I  should  long  ere  now  have  borne  away  the  spoils  of  your 
honour." 


AN  INCIDENT  OF  THE  YELLOW  FEVER    PANIC    IN 
PHILADELPHIA 

[From  "Ormond"] 

Adjacent  to  the  house  occupied  by  Baxter  was  an  antique  brick 
tenement.  It  was  one  of  the  first  erections  made  by  the  followers 
of  William  Penn.  It  had  the  honour  to  be  used  as  the  temporary 
residence  of  that  venerable  person.  Its  moss-grown  pent-house, 
crumbling  walls,  and  ruinous  porch,  made  it  an  interesting  and 
picturesque  object.  Notwithstanding  its  age,  it  was  still  tenable. 

This  house  was  occupied,  during  the  preceding  months,  by  a 
Frenchman.  His  dress  and  demeanour  were  respectable.  His 
mode  of  life  was  frugal  almost  to  penuriousness,  and  his  only 
companion  was  a  daughter.  The  lady  seemed  not  much  less  than 
thirty  years  of  age,  but  was  of  a  small  and  delicate  frame.  It  was 
she  that  performed  every  household  office.  She  brought  water 
from  the  pump  and  provisions  from  the  market.  Their  house 


CHARLES   BROCKDEN   BROWN  483 

had  no  visitants,  and  was  almost  always  closed.  Duly,  as  the 
morning  returned,  a  venerable  figure  was  seen  issuing  from  his 
door,  dressed  in  the  same  style  of  tarnished  splendour  and  old- 
fashioned  preciseness.  At  the  dinner-hour  he  as  regularly  returned. 
For  the  rest  of  the  day  he  was  invisible. 

The  habitations  in  this  quarter  are  few  and  scattered.  The 
pestilence  soon  showed  itself  here,  and  the  flight  of  most  of  the 
inhabitants  augmented  its  desolateness  and  dreariness.  For 
some  time,  Monrose  (that  was  his  name)  made  his  usual  appear 
ance  in  the  morning.  At  length  the  neighbours  remarked  that  he 
no  longer  came  forth  as  usual.  Baxter  had  a  notion  that  French 
men  were  exempt  from  this  disease.  He  was,  besides,  deeply 
and  rancorously  prejudiced  against  that  nation.  There  will  be  no 
difficulty  in  accounting  for  this,  when  it  is  known  that  he  had  been 
an  English  grenadier  at  Dettingen  and  Minden.  It  must  likewise 
be  added,  that  he  was  considerably  timid,  and  had  sickness  in  his 
own  family.  Hence  it  was  that  the  disappearance  of  Monrose 
excited  in  him  no  inquisitiveness  as  to  the  cause.  He  did  not 
even  mention  this  circumstance  to  others. 

The  lady  was  occasionally  seen  as  usual  in  the  street.  There 
were  always  remarkable  peculiarities  in  her  behaviour.  In  the 
midst  of  grave  and  disconsolate  looks,  she  never  laid  aside  an  air 
of  solemn  dignity.  She  seemed  to  shrink  from  the  observation  of 
others,  and  her  eyes  were  always  fixed  upon  the  ground.  One 
evening  Baxter  was  passing  the  pump  while  she  was  drawing  water. 
The  sadness  which  her  looks  betokened,  and  a  suspicion  that  her 
father  might  be  sick,  had  a  momentary  effect  upon  his  feelings. 
He  stopped  and  asked  how  her  father  was.  She  paid  a  polite 
attention  to  his  question,  and  said  something  in  French.  This, 
and  the  embarrassment  of  her  air,  convinced  him  that  his  words 
were  not  understood.  He  said  no  more,  (what,  indeed,  could  he 
say?)  but  passed  on. 

Two  or  three  days  after  this,  on  returning  in  the  evening  to  his 
family,  his  wife  expressed  her  surprise  in  not  having  seen  Miss 
Monrose  in  the  street  that  day.  She  had  not  been  at  the  pump, 
nor  had  gone,  as  usual,  to  market.  This  information  gave  him 
some  disquiet;  yet  he  could  form  no  resolution.  As  to  entering 
the  house  and  offering  his  aid,  if  aid  were  needed,  he  had  too 


484  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

much  regard  for  his  own  safety,  and  too  little  for  that  of  a  frog- 
eating  Frenchman,  to  think  seriously  of  that  expedient.  His  at 
tention  was  speedily  diverted  by  other  objects,  and  Monrose  was, 
for  the  present,  forgotten. 

Baxter's  profession  was  that  of  a  porter.  He  was  thrown  out  of 
employment  by  the  present  state  of  things.  The  solicitude  of  the 
guardians  of  the  city  was  exerted  on  this  occasion,  not  only  in 
opposing  the  progress  of  disease  and  furnishing  provisions  to  the 
destitute,  but  in  the  preservation  of  property.  For  this  end  the 
number  of  nightly  watchmen  was  increased.  Baxter  entered 
himself  in  this  service.  From  nine  till  twelve  o'clock  at  night  it 
was  his  province  to  occupy  a  certain  post. 

On  this  night  he  attended  his  post  as  usual.  Twelve  o'clock 
arrived,  and  he  bent  his  steps  homeward.  It  was  necessary  to  pass 
by  Monrose's  door.  On  approaching  this  house,  the  circumstance 
mentioned  by  his  wife  occurred  to  him.  Something  like  compas 
sion  was  conjured  up  in  his  heart  by  the  figure  of  the  lady,  as  he 
recollected  to  have  lately  seen  it.  It  was  obvious  to  conclude 
that  sickness  was  the  cause  of  her  seclusion.  The  same,  it  might 
be,  had  confined  her  father.  If  this  were  true,  how  deplorable 
might  be  their  present  condition  !  Without  food,  without  physician 
or  friends,  ignorant  of  the  language  of  the  country,  and  thence 
unable  to  communicate  their  wants  or  solicit  succour,  fugitives 
from  their  native  land,  neglected,  solitary,  and  poor. 

His  heart  was  softened  by  these  images.  He  stopped  involun 
tarily  when  opposite  their  door.  He  looked  up  at  the  house.  The 
shutters  were  closed,  so  that  light,  if  it  were  within,  was  invisible. 
He  stepped  into  the  porch,  and  put  his  eye  to  the  keyhole.  All 
was  darksome  and  waste.  He  listened,  and  imagined  that  he 
heard  the  aspirations  of  grief.  The  sound  was  scarcely  articulate, 
but  had  an  electrical  effect  upon  his  feelings.  He  retired  to  his 
home  full  of  mournful  reflections. 

He  was  willing  to  do  something  for  the  relief  of  the  sufferers, 
but  nothing  could  be  done  that  night.  Yet  succour,  if  delayed 
till  the  morning,  might  be  ineffectual.  But  how,  when  the  morning 
came,  should  he  proceed  to  effectuate  his  kind  intentions?  The 
guardians  of  the  public  welfare,  at  this  crisis,  were  distributed 
into  those  who  counselled  and  those  who  executed.  A  set  of  men, 


CHARLES  BROCK  DEN   BROWN  485 

self-appointed  to  the  generous  office,  employed  themselves  in 
seeking  out  the  destitute  or  sick,  and  imparting  relief.  With 
this  arrangement  Baxter  was  acquainted.  He  was  resolved  to 
cany  tidings  of  what  he  had  heard  and  seen  to  one  of  those  persons 
early  the  next  day. 

Baxter,  after  taking  some  refreshment,  retired  to  rest.  In  no 
long  time,  however,  he  was  awakened  by  his  wife,  who  desired  him 
to  notice  a  certain  glimmering  on  the  ceiling.  It  seemed  the 
feeble  and  flitting  ray  of  a  distant  and  moving  light,  coming 
through  the  window.  It  did  not  proceed  from  the  street,  for  the 
chamber  was  lighted  from  the  side  and  not  from  the  front  of  the 
house.  A  lamp  borne  by  a  passenger,  or  the  attendants  of  a  hearse, 
could  not  be  discovered  in  this  situation.  Besides,  in  the  latter 
case  it  would  be  accompanied  by  the  sound  of  the  vehicle,  .and, 
probably,  by  weeping  and  exclamations  of  despair.  His  employ 
ment,  as  the  guardian  of  property,  naturally  suggested  to  him  the 
idea  of  robbery.  He  started  from  his  bed,  and  went  to  the  window. 

His  house  stood  at  the  distance  of  about  fifty  paces  from  that 
of  Monrose.  There  was  annexed  to  the  latter  a  small  garden  or 
yard,  bounded  by  a  high  wooden  fence.  Baxter's  window  over 
looked  this  space.  Before  he  reached  the  window,  the  relative 
situation  of  the  two  habitations  occurred  to  him.  A  conjecture 
was  instantly  formed  that  the  glimmering  proceeded  from  this 
quarter.  His  eye,  therefore,  was  immediately  fixed  upon  Mon- 
rose's  back-door.  It  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  human  figure  passing 
into  the  house  through  this  door.  The  person  had  a  candle  in 
his  hand.  This  appeared  by  the  light  which  streamed  after  him, 
and  which  was  perceived,  though  faintly,  through  a  small  window 
of  the  dwelling,  after  the  back-door  was  closed. 

The  person  disappeared  too  quickly  to  allow  him  to  say  whether 
it  was  male  or  female.  This  scrutiny  confirmed  rather  than  weak 
ened  the  apprehensions  that  first  occurred.  He  reflected  on  the 
desolate  and  helpless  condition  of  this  family.  The  father  might 
be  sick;  and  what  opposition  could  be  made  by  the  daughter  to 
the  stratagems  or  violence  of  midnight  plunderers  ?  This  was  an 
evil  which  it  was  his  duty,  in  an  extraordinary  sense,  to  obviate. 
It  is  true,  the  hour  of  watching  was  past,  and  this  was  not  the  dis 
trict  assigned  to  him;  but  Baxter  was,  on  the  whole,  of  a  generous 


486  EARLY  AMERICAN   WRITERS 

and  intrepid  spirit.  In  the  present  case,  therefore,  he  did  not 
hesitate  long  in  forming  his  resolution.  He  seized  a  hanger  that 
hung  at  his  bedside,  and  which  had  hewn  many  a  Hungarian  and 
French  hussar  to  pieces.  With  this  he  descended  to  the  street. 
He  cautiously  approached  Monrose's  house.  He  listened  at  the 
door,  but  heard  nothing.  The  lower  apartment,  as  he  discovered 
through  the  keyhole,  was  deserted  and  dark.  These  appearances 
could  not  be  accounted  for.  He  was,  as  yet,  unwilling  to  call  or 
to  knock.  He  was  solicitous  to  obtain  some  information  by  silent 
means,  and  without  alarming  the  persons  within,  who,  if  they 
were  robbers,  might  thus  be  put  upon  their  guard  and  enabled  to 
escape.  If  none  but  the  family  were  there,  they  would  not  under 
stand  his  signals,  and  might  impute  the  disturbance  to  the  cause 
which  he  was  desirous  to  obviate.  What  could  he  do  ?  Must  he 
patiently  wait  till  some  incident  should  happen  to  regulate  his 
motions  ? 

In  this  uncertainty,  he  bethought  himself  of  going  round  to  the 
back  part  of  the  dwelling  and  watching  the  door  which  had  been 
closed.  An  open  space,  filled  with  rubbish  and  weeds,  adjoined 
the  house  and  garden  on  one  side.  Hither  he  repaired,  and, 
raising  his  head  above  the  fence,  at  a  point  directly  opposite  the 
door,  waited  with  considerable  impatience  for  some  token  or  signal 
by  which  he  might  be  directed  in  his  choice  of  measures. 

Human  life  abounds  with  mysterious  appearances.  A  man 
perched  on  a  fence  at  midnight,  mute  and  motionless,  and  gazing 
at  a  dark  and  dreary  dwelling,  was  an  object  calculated  to  rouse 
curiosity.  When  the  muscular  form  and  rugged  visage,  scarred 
and  furrowed  into  something  like  ferocity,  were  added,  —  when  the 
nature  of  the  calamity  by  which  the  city  w?s  dispeopled  was  con 
sidered,  —  the  motives  to  plunder,  and  the  insecurity  of  property, 
arising  from  the  pressure  of  new  wants  on  the  poor  and  the  flight 
or  disease  of  the  rich,  were  attended  to,  —  an  observer  would  be 
apt  to  admit  fearful  conjectures. 

We  know  not  how  long  Baxter  continued  at  this  post.  He  re 
mained  here,  because  he  could  not,  as  he  conceived,  change  it  for 
a  better.  Before  his  patience  was  exhausted,  his  attention  was 
called  by  a  noise  within  the  house.  It  proceeded  from  the  lower 
room.  The  sound  was  that  of  steps,  but  this  was  accompanied 


CHARLES  BROCKDEN   BROWN  487 

with  other  inexplicable  tokens.  The  kitchen-door  at  length  opened. 
The  figure  of  Miss  Monrose,  pale,  emaciated,  and  haggard,  pre 
sented  itself.  Within  the  door  stood  a  candle.  It  was  placed  on  a 
chair  within  sight,  and  its  rays  streamed  directly  against  the  face 
of  Baxter  as  it  was  reared  above  the  top  of  the  fence.  This  illumi 
nation,  faint  as  it  was,  bestowed  a  certain  air  of  wildness  on 
features  which  nature,  and  the  sanguinary  habits  of  a  soldier,  had 
previously  rendered,  in  an  eminent  degree,  harsh  and  stern.  He 
was  not  aware  of  the  danger  of  discovery  in  consequence  of  this 
position  of  the  candle.  His  attention  was,  for  a  few  seconds,  en 
grossed  by  the  object  before  him.  At  length  he  chanced  to  notice 
another  object. 

At  a  few  yards'  distance  from  the  fence,  and  within  it,  some  one 
appeared  to  have  been  digging.  An  opening  was  made  in  the 
ground,  but  it  was  shallow  and  irregular.  The  implement  which 
seemed  to  have  been  used  was  nothing  more  than  a  fire-shovel, 
for  one  of  these  he  observed  lying  near  the  spot.  The  lady  had 
withdrawn  from  the  door,  though  without  closing  it.  He  had 
leisure,  therefore,  to  attend  to  this  new  circumstance,  and  to  re 
flect  upon  the  purpose  for  which  this  opening  might  have  been 
designed. 

Death  is  familiar  to  the  apprehensions  of  a  soldier.  Baxter  had 
assisted  at  the  hasty  interment  of  thousands,  the  victims  of  the 
sword  or  of  pestilence.  Whether  it  was  because  this  theatre  of 
human  calamity  was  new  to  him,  and  death,  in  order  to  be  viewed 
with  his  ancient  unconcern,  must  be  accompanied  in  the  ancient 
manner,  with  halberds  and  tents,  certain  it  is  that  Baxter  was  irres 
olute  and  timid  in  every  thing  that  respected  the  yellow  fever. 
The  circumstances  of  the  time  suggested  that  this  was  a  grave,  to 
which  some  victim  of  this  disease  was  to  be  consigned.  His  teeth 
chattered  when  he  reflected  how  near  he  might  now  be  to  the  source 
of  infection ;  yet  his  curiosity  retained  him  at  his  post. 

He  fixed  his  eyes  once  more  upon  the  door.  In  a  short  time  the 
lady  again  appeared  at  it.  She  was  in  a  stooping  posture,  and 
appeared  to  be  dragging  something  along  the  floor.  His  blood  ran 
cold  at  this  spectacle.  His  fear  instantly  figured  to  itself  a  corpse, 
livid  and  contagious.  Still,  he  had  no  power  to  move.  The 
lady's  strength,  enfeebled  as  it  was  by  grief,  and  perhaps  by  the 


488  EARLY   AMERICAN   WRITERS 

absence  of  nourishment,  seemed  scarcely  adequate  to  the  task  which 
she  had  assigned  herself. 

Her  burden,  whatever  it  was,  was  closely  wrapped  in  a  sheet. 
She  drew  it  forward  a  few  paces,  then  desisted,  and  seated  herself 
on  the  ground,  apparently  to  recruit  her  strength  and  give  vent  to 
the  agony  of  her  thoughts  in  sighs.  Her  tears  were  either  ex 
hausted  or  refused  to  flow,  for  none  were  shed  by  her.  Presently 
she  resumed  her  undertaking.  Baxter's  horror  increased  in  pro 
portion  as  she  drew  nearer  to  the  spot  where  he  stood ;  and  yet  it 
seemed  as  if  some  fascination  had  forbidden  him  to  recede. 

At  length  the  burden  was  drawn  to  the  side  of  the  opening  in 
the  earth.  Here  it  seemed  as  if  the  mournful  task  was  finished. 
She  threw  herself  once  more  upon  the  earth.  Her  senses  seemed 
for  a  time  to  have  forsaken  her.  She  sat  buried  in  reverie,  her 
eyes  scarcely  open,  and  fixed  upon  the  ground,  and  every  feature 
set  to  the  genuine  expression  of  sorrow.  Some  disorder,  occa 
sioned  by  the  circumstance  of  dragging,  now  took  place  in  the 
vestment  of  what  he  had  rightly  predicted  to  be  a  dead  body. 
The  veil  by  accident  was  drawn  aside,  and  exhibited  to  the  startled 
eye  of  Baxter  the  pale  and  ghastly  visage  of  the  unhappy  Monrose. 

This  incident  determined  him.  Every  joint  in  his  frame 
trembled,  and  he  hastily  withdrew  from  the  fence.  His  first 
motion  in  doing  this  produced  a  noise  by  which  the  lady  was 
alarmed;  she  suddenly  threw  her  eyes  upward,  and  gained  a 
full  view  of  Baxter's  extraordinary  countenance,  just  before  it 
disappeared.  She  manifested  her  terror  by  a  piercing  shriek. 
Baxter  did  not  stay  to  mark  her  subsequent  conduct,  to  confirm 
or  to  dissipate  her  fears,  but  retired,  in  confusion,  to  his  own 
house. 

AN  ADVENTURE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 
[From  "Edgar  Huntley"] 

I  reached  the  mouth  of  the  cave.  Till  now  I  had  forgotten 
that  a  lamp  or  a  torch  might  be  necessary  to  direct  my  subter 
ranean  footsteps.  I  was  unwilling  to  defer  the  attempt.  Light 
might  possibly  be  requisite,  if  the  cave  had  no  other  outlet.  Some 
what  might  present  itself  within  to  the  eyes,  which  might  forever 


CHARLES  BROCKDEN   BROWN  489 

elude  the  hands,  but  I  was  more  inclined  to  consider  it  merely  as 
an  avenue  terminating  in  an  opening  on  the  summit  of  the  steep, 
or  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  ridge.  Caution  might  supply  the 
place  of  light,  or,  having  explored  the  cave  as  far  as  possible  at 
present,  I  might  hereafter  return,  better  furnished  for  the  scrutiny. 

With  these  determinations,  I  proceeded.  The  entrance  was 
low,  and  compelled  me  to  resort  to  hands  as  well  as  feet.  At  a 
few  yards  from  the  mouth  the  light  disappeared,  and  I  found 
myself  immersed  in  the  dunnest  obscurity.  Had  I  not  been  per 
suaded  that  another  had  gone  before  me,  I  should  have  relin 
quished  the  attempt.  I  proceeded  with  the  utmost  caution, 
always  ascertaining,  by  outstretched  arms,  the  height  and  breadth 
of  the  cavity  before  me.  In  a  short  time  the  dimensions  expanded 
on  all  sides,  and  permitted  me  to  resume  my  feet. 

I  walked  upon  a  smooth  and  gentle  declivity.  Presently  the 
wall  on  one  side,  and  the  ceiling,  receded  beyond  my  reach.  I 
began  to  fear  that  I  should  be  involved  in  a  maze,  and  should  be 
disabled  from  returning.  To  obviate  this  danger  it  was  requisite 
to  adhere  to  the  nearest  wrall,  and  conform  to  the  direction  which 
it  should  take,  without  straying  through  the  palpable  obscurity. 
Whether  the  ceiling  was  lofty  or  low,  whether  the  opposite  wrall 
of  the  passage  was  distant  or  near,  this  I  deemed  no  proper  oppor 
tunity  to  investigate. 

In  a  short  time,  my  progress  was  stopped  by  an  abrupt  descent. 
I  set  down  the  advancing  foot  with  caution,  being  aware  that  I 
might  at  the  next  step  encounter  a  bottomless  pit.  To  the  brink 
of  such  a  one  I  seemed  now  to  have  arrived.  I  stooped,  and 
stretched  my  hand  forward  and  downward,  but  all  was  vacuity. 

Here  it  was  needful  to  pause.  I  had  reached  the  brink  of  a 
cavity  whose  depth  it  was  impossible  to  ascertain.  It  might  be  a 
few  inches  beyond  my  reach,  or  hundreds  of  feet.  By  leaping 
down  I  might  incur  no  injury,  or  might  plunge  into  a  lake  or 
dash  myself  to  pieces  on  the  points  of  rocks. 

I  now  saw  with  new  force  the  propriety  of  being  furnished  with 
a  light.  The  first  suggestion  was  to  return  upon  my  footsteps, 
and  resume  my  undertaking  on  the  morrow.  Yet,  having  ad 
vanced  thus  far,  I  felt  reluctance  to  recede  without  accomplish 
ing  my  purposes.  I  reflected  likewise  that  Clithero  had  boldly 


490  EARLY  AMERICAN   WRITERS 

entered  this  recess,  and  had  certainly  come  forth  at  a  different 
avenue  from  that  at  which  he  entered. 

At  length  it  occurred  to  me  that,  though  I  could  not  go  for 
ward,  yet  I  might  proceed  along  the  edge  of  this  cavity.  This 
edge  would  be  as  safe  a  guidance,  and  would  serve  as  well  for  a 
clue  by  which  I  might  return,  as  the  wall  which  it  was  now 
necessary  to  forsake. 

Intense  dark  is  always  the  parent  of  fears.  Impending  injuries 
cannot  in  this  state  be  descried,  nor  shunned,  nor  repelled.  I 
began  to  feel  some  faltering  of  my  courage,  and  seated  myself, 
for  a  few  minutes,  on  a  stony  mass  which  arose  before  me.  My 
situation  was  new.  The  caverns  I  had  hitherto  met  with  in  this 
desert  were  chiefly  formed  of  low-browed  rocks.  They  were 
chambers,  more  or  less  spacious,  into  which  twilight  was  at  least 
admitted ;  but  here  it  seemed  as  if  I  were  surrounded  by  barriers 
that  would  forever  cut  off  my  return  to  air  and  to  light. 

Presently  I  resumed  my  courage  and  proceeded.  My  road 
appeared  now  to  ascend.  On  one  side  I  seemed  still  upon  the 
verge  of  a  precipice,  and  on  the  other  all  was  empty  and  waste. 
I  had  gone  no  inconsiderable  distance,  and  persuaded  myself  that 
my  career  would  speedily  terminate.  In  a  short  time,  the  space 
on  the  left  hand  was  again  occupied,  and  I  cautiously  proceeded 
between  the  edge  of  the  gulf  and  a  rugged  wall.  As  the  space 
between  them  widened  I  adhered  to  the  wall. 

I  was  not  insensible  that  my  path  became  more  intricate  and 
more  difficult  to  retread  in  proportion  as  I  advanced.  I  en 
deavoured  to  preserve  a  vivid  conception  of  the  way  which  I  had 
already  passed,  and  to  keep  the  images  of  the  left  and  right-hand 
wall,  and  the  gulf,  in  due  succession  in  my  memory. 

The  path,  which  had  hitherto  been  considerably  smooth,  now 
became  rugged  and  steep.  Chilling  damps,  the  secret  trepida 
tion  which  attended  me,  the  length  and  difficulties  of  my  way, 
enhanced  by  the  ceaseless  caution  and  the  numerous  expedients 
which  the  utter  darkness  obliged  me  to  employ,  began  to  over 
power  my  strength.  I  was  frequently  compelled  to  stop  and 
recruit  myself  by  rest.  These  respites  from  toil  were  of  use,  but 
they  could  not  enable  me  to  prosecute  an  endless  journey,  and  to 
return  was  scarcely  a  less  arduous  task  than  to  proceed. 


CHARLES  BROCKDEN  BROWN  491 

I  looked  anxiously  forward,  in  the  hope  of  being  comforted  by 
some  dim  ray,  which  might  assure  me  that  my  labours  were 
approaching  an  end.  At  last  this  propitious  token  appeared,  and 
I  issued  forth  into  a  kind  of  chamber,  one  side  of  which  was  open 
to  the  air  and  allowed  me  to  catch  a  portion  of  the  checkered 
sky.  This  spectacle  never  before  excited  such  exquisite  sensa 
tions  hi  my  bosom.  The  air,  likewise,  breathed  into  the  cavern, 
was  unspeakably  delicious. 

I  now  found  myself  on  the  projecture  of  a  rock.  Above  and 
below,  the  hill-side  was  nearly  perpendicular.  Opposite,  and  at 
the  distance  of  fifteen  or  twenty  yards,  was  a  similar  ascent.  At 
the  bottom  was  a  glen,  cold,  narrow,  and  obscure.  This  pro 
jecture,  which  served  as  a  kind  of  vestibule  to  the  cave,  was  con 
nected  with  a  ledge,  by  which,  though  not  without  peril  and  toil, 
I  was  conducted  to  the  summit. 

This  summit  was  higher  than  any  of  those  which  were  inter 
posed  between  itself  and  the  river.  A  large  part  of  this  chaos  of 
rocks  and  precipices  was  subjected,  at  one  view,  to  the  eye.  The 
fertile  lawns  and  vales  which  lay  beyond  this,  the  winding  course 
of  the  river,  and  the  slopes  which  rose  on  its  farther  side,  were 
parts  of  this  extensive  scene.  These  objects  were  at  any  time 
fitted  to  inspire  rapture.  Now  my  delight  was  enhanced  by  the 
contrast  which  this  lightsome  and  serene  element  bore  to  the 
glooms  from  which  I  had  lately  emerged.  My  station,  also,  was 
higher,  and  the  limits  of  my  view,  consequently,  more  ample  than 
any  which  I  had  hitherto  enjoyed. 

I  advanced  to  the  outer  verge  of  the  hill,  which  I  found  to 
overlook  a  steep  no  less  inaccessible,  and  a  glen  equally  profound. 
I  changed  frequently  my  station  in  order  to  diversify  the  scenery. 
At  length  it  became  necessary  to  inquire  by  what  means  I  should 
return.  I  traversed  the  edge  of  the  hill,  but  on  every  side  it 
was  equally  steep  and  always  too  lofty  to  permit  me  to  leap 
from  it.  As  I  kept  along  the  verge,  I  perceived  that  it  tended 
in  a  circular  direction,  and  brought  me  back,  at  last,  to  the  spot 
from  which  I  had  set  out.  From  this  inspection,  it  seemed  as 
if  return  was  impossible  by  any  other  way  than  that  through  the 
cavern. 

I  now  turned  my  attention  to  the  interior  space.     If  you  imagine 


492  EARLY   AMERICAN    WRITERS 

a  cylindrical  mass,  with  a  cavity  dug  in  the  centre,  whose  edge 
conforms  to  the  exterior  edge;  and  if  you  place  in  this  cavity 
another  cylinder,  higher  than  that  which  surrounds  it,  but  so 
small  as  to  leave  between  its  sides  and  those  of  the  cavity  a  hol 
low  space,  you  will  gain  as  distinct  an  image  of  this  hill  as  words 
can  convey.  The  summit  of  the  inner  rock  was  rugged  and 
covered  with  trees  of  unequal  growth.  To  reach  this  summit 
would  not  render  my  return  easier;  but  its  greater  elevation 
would  extend  my  view,  and  perhaps  furnish  a  spot  from  which 
the  whole  horizon  was  conspicuous. 

As  I  had  traversed  the  outer,  I  now  explored  the  inner,  edge  of 
this  hill.  At  length  I  reached  a  spot  where  the  chasm,  separating 
the  two  rocks,  was  narrower  than  at  any  other  part.  At  first 
view,  it  seemed  as  if  it  were  possible  to  leap  over  it,  but  a  nearer 
examination  showed  me  that  the  passage  was  impracticable.  So 
far  as  my  eye  could  estimate  it,  the  breadth  was  thirty  or  forty 
feet.  I  could  scarcely  venture  to  look  beneath.  The  height 
was  dizzy,  and  the  walls,  which  approached  each  other  at  top, 
receded  at  the  bottom,  so  as  to  form  the  resemblance  of  an  im 
mense  hall,  lighted  from  a  rift  which  some  convulsion  of  nature 
had  made  in  the  roof.  Where  I  stood  there  ascended  a  perpetual 
mist,  occasioned  by  a  torrent  that  dashed  along  the  rugged  pave 
ment  below. 

From  these  objects  I  willingly  turned  my  eye  upon  those  before 
and  above  me,  on  the  opposite  ascent.  A  stream,  rushing  from 
above,  fell  into  a  cavity,  which  its  own  force  seemed  gradually  to 
have  made.  The  noise  and  the  motion  equally  attracted  my 
attention.  There  was  a  desolate  and  solitary  grandeur  in  the 
scene,  enhanced  by  the  circumstances  in  which  it  was  beheld, 
and  by  the  perils  through  which  I  had  recently  passed,  that  had 
never  before  been  witnessed  by  me. 

A  sort  of  sanctity  and  awe  environed  it,  owing  to  the  conscious 
ness  of  absolute  and  utter  loneliness.  It  was  probable  that 
human  feet  had  never  before  gained  this  recess,  that  human  eyes 
had  never  been  fixed  upon  these  gushing  waters.  The  aboriginal 
inhabitants  had  no  motives  to  lead  them  into  caves  like  this  and 
ponder  on  the  verge  of  such  a  precipice.  Their  successors  were 
still  less  likely  to  have  wandered  hither.  Since  the  birth  of  this 


CHARLES  BROCKDEN  BROWN  493 

continent,  I  was  probably  the  first  who  had  deviated  thus  re 
motely  from  the  customary  paths  of  men. 

While  musing  upon  these  ideas,  my  eye  was  fixed  upon  the 
foaming  current.  At  length  I  looked  upon  the  rocks  which  con 
fined  and  embarrassed  its  course.  I  admired  their  fantastic 
shapes  and  endless  irregularities.  Passing  from  one  to  the 
other  of  these,  my  attention  lighted,  at  length,  as  if  by  some 
magical  transition,  on  —  a  human  countenance. 


Representative  Essays  on 
the  Theory  of  Style 

Chosen  and  Arranged 

By  WILLIAM  TENNEY  BREWSTER,  A.M. 

Adjunct  Professor  of  English  in  Barnard  College,  Columbia  University 

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The  essays  are  chosen  to  present  the  art  rather  than  the  history  of  style  or 
the  historical  view  of  the  theory  of  style,  and  they  represent  as  many  points  of 
view  as  is  practicable.  The  volume  contains  the  essays  of  De  Quincey,  New 
man,  Spencer,  Lewes  (in  "The  Principles  of  Success  in  Literature  "),  Steven 
son,  Pater,  and  Mr.  Frederic  Harrison,  besides  some  fragments.  There  is  an 
introduction  dealing  with  the  problem  of  style,  and  notes  and  questions  for 
the  aid  of  the  student. 

Studies  in  Structure  and  Style 

Based  on  Seven  Modern  English  Essays 

By  WILLIAM  TENNEY  BREWSTER,  A.M. 

Adjunct  Professor  of  English  in  Barnard  College,  Columbia  University. 
With  an  Introduction  by  GEORGE  R.  CARPENTER,  Professor  of 
Rhetoric  and  English  Composition  in  Columbia  University. 

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The  book  is  intended  to  supplement  the  study  of  the  principles  of  rhetoric 
by  the  systematic  analysis  of  several  pieces  of  modern  English  prose.  The 
treatment  of  structure  is  especially  full  ;  general  principles  are  suggested,  and 
the  student  is  guided  to  carry  out  the  work  of  analysis  for  himself.  A  bibli 
ography  of  books  on  style  is  added. 

"The  author  has  used  rare  discrimination  in  selecting  the  essays  which  he 
discusses,  insisting  that  they  should  be  of  the  highest  class  of  modern  litera 
ture,  and  that  they  should  serve  as  models  to  the  student.  The  analysis  of 
structure  and  style  in  this  volume  is  most  able,  and  the  book  will  be  found  a 
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Theories  of  Style 


With  especial  reference  to  Prose  Composition.  Essays,  Excerpts,  and 
Translations  arranged  and  adapted  by  LANE  COOPER,  Ph.D.,  Assistant 
Professor  of  English  in  Cornell  University. 

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Words  and  Their  Ways 
in  English  Speech 

By  JAMES  BRADSTREET  GREENOUGH 

Late  Professor  of  Latin  in  Harvard  University 
and  GEORGE  LYMAN  KITTREDGE 

Professor  of  English  in  Harvard  University 

Cloth,  i2mo,  x  +  431  pages,  $1.10  net 

"  As  valuable  as  a  dictionary  and  as  readable  as  a  vivid  piece  of  narrative  or 
descriptive  writing.  It  is  indispensable  to  every  student  writer."  —  Boston 
Transcript. 

Exercises  in  Rhetoric  and 
English  Composition 

By  GEORGE  R.  CARPENTER 

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Cloth,  xiii  +  222  pages,  $1.00  net 

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tion  of  that  impossible  short  method  of  learning  to  write  which  has  often 
been  sought  for,  but  never  with  a  nearer  approach  to  being  found.  .  .  .  We 
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English  Poetry 


ITS  PRINCIPLES  AND  PROGRESS,  WITH   REPRE 
SENTATIVE   MASTERPIECES   AND   NOTES. 

By  CHARLES   MILLS   GAYLEY,  Litt.D.,  LL.D., 

Professor  of  the  English  Language  and  Literature  in  the  Uni 
versity  of  California, 
and  CLEMENT  C.   YOUNG, 

of  the  Lowell  High  School,  San  Francisco,  California. 

Cloth,  i2ino,  $  i.io  net 

A  manual  for  the  general  reader  who  takes  an  interest  in  the  materials  and 
history  of  the  higher  English  poetry,  and  seeks  a  simple  statement  of  its 
principles  in  relation  to  life,  conduct,  and  art.  The  introduction  on  "  The 
Principles  of  Poetry  "  aims  to  answer  the  questions  that  inevitably  arise 
when  poetry  is  the  subject  of  discussion,  and  to  give  the  questioner  a  grasp 
upon  the  essentials  necessary  to  appreciation  and  to  the  formation  of  an 
independent  judgment. 

_"The  Introduction  on  'The  Principles  of  Poetry'  should  be  an  inspira 
tion  to  both  teacher  and  pupil,  and  a  very  definite  help  in  appreciation  and 
study,  especially  in  the  portion  that  deals  with  the  '  Rhythm  of  Verse.' 
The  remarks  on  the  different  centuries,  in  their  literary  significance  and 
development,  are  helpful,  and  the  notes  to  each  poem,  lucid  and  sufficient." 
—  HARRY  S.  Ross,  Worcester  Academy,  Worcester,  Mass. 

for  more  Advanced  Students 

A  History  of  English  Prosody 

From  the  Twelfth  Century  to  the 
Present  Day.     In  three  volumes. 

By  GEORGE  SAINTSBURY,  M.A.   (Oxon.),  Hon.  LL.D. 
(Aberdeen) 

Professor  of  Rhetoric  and  English  Literature  in  the  Uni 
versity  of  Edinburgh. 
VOLUME  I.     From  the  Origins  to  Spenser. 

xvii+ 428  pages,  8vo,  clotty  $2.jo  net 
VOLUME  II.     From  Shakespeare  to  Crabbe. 

xvi+jSj  pages,  8vo,  cloth,  $3.75  net 

"  What  strikes  one  is  the  sensibleness  of  the  book  as  a  whole.  Not  merely 
for  enthusiasts  on  metrics,  but  for  students  of  literature  in  general,  it  is  a 
good  augury  toward  the  probable  clearing  up  of  this  entire  blurred  and 
cloudy  subject  to  find  Omond's  mild  fairness  and  Thomson's  telling  simplic 
ity  followed  so  soon  by  this  all- pervading  common  sense.  .  .  .  The  most 
extraordinary  thing  about  this  volume  is  that,  unintentionally  as  it  would 
appear,  the  author  has  produced  the  one  English  book  now  existing  which  is 
likely  to  be  of  real  use  to  those  who  wish  to  perfect  themselves  in  the  formal 
side  of  verse  composition."  —  The  Evening  Post,  New  York. 


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A  History  of  the 

Eighteenth  Century  Literature 

(J660-J780) 

BY  EDMUND   GOSSE,  M.A. 

Clark    Lecturer    in     English    Literature    at   Trinity  College, 
Cambridge. 

Cloth,  I2mo,  $1.00 

Contents :  —  Poetry  after  the  Restoration  ;  Drama  after 
the  Restoration ;  Prose  after  the  Restoration ;  Pope ; 
Swift  and  the  Deists ;  Defoe  and  the  Essayists ;  The 
Dawn  of  Naturalism  in  Poetry;  The  Novelists;  Johnson 
and  the  Philosophers  ;  The  Poets  of  the  Decadence  ;  The 
Prose  of  the  Decadence ;  Conclusion,  Bibliography,  Index. 

OSWALD  CRAWFORD,  in  London  Academy : 

"  Mr.  Gosse's  book  is  one  for  the  student  because  of  its 
fulness,  its  trustworthiness,  and  its  thorough  soundness  of 
criticism ;  and  one  for  the  general  reader  because  of  its 
pleasantness  and  interest.  It  is  a  book,  indeed,  not  easy 
to  put  down  or  to  part  with." 

The  English   PoetS    (Selections) 

With  Critical  Introductions  by  various  writers,  and 
General  Introduction  by  MATTHEW  ARNOLD.  Edited 
by  THOMAS  HUMPHRY  WARD,  M.A. 

In  4  vols.     Student's  Edition.     $1.00  each 

Vol.  I.  Chaucer  to  Donne.  Vol.  II.  Ben  Jonson  to 
Dryden.  Vol.  III.  Addi son  to  Blake.  Vol.  IV.  Words 
worth  to  Rossetti. 

New  York  Evening  Mail: 

"  The  best  collection  ever  made.  ...  A  nobler  library 
of  poetry  and  criticism  is  not  to  be  found  in  the  whole 
range  of  English  literature." 


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